She got down.
Wyatt advanced, his mind tuned to keeping her safe as Driscoll used shelving as cover. Not the best choice of cover. Wyatt tracked movement, adjusting angles, pushing the fight away from Letty.
A faint click sounded behind him. The sound wasn’t a gun. His brain processed the sound: a door latch. Wyatt spun around. Will wasn’t where he’d been.
A shape slammed into Wyatt’s side. Pain flared right along the old scar that ran from his ribs toward his spine.That was a knife.Wyatt grunted, body reacting before his brain finished processing. He caught the attacker’s wrist, twisted hard, and drove an elbow back.
The blade ripped free, tearing through tissue that had once been stitched and healed. Warm blood soaked his shirt as the smell of iron filled the air. He heard Letty’s sharp inhale, and then her voice rose, furious: “Wyatt!”
Wyatt forced his weight steady as the attacker stumbled back. Light caught his face. Driscoll stood with the knife now in his left hand, eyes wide like he hadn’t expected resistance. Wyatt’s mouth curved in a grim, humorless half-smile. “Bad move!”
Driscoll lunged again as Wyatt shot him in the shoulder, making Driscoll scream and drop the knife. Wyatt pressed the trigger again.Nothing. Shit.Wyatt threw the gun, hitting Driscoll in the neck.
Will’s voice cut through the chaos, still calm. “Enough. Take her.” He pointed his gun at Letty from the corner.
Driscoll, clutching his shoulder, staggered toward Letty’s position as Wyatt moved to intercept. His body protested. Blood made everything slick. He pushed anyway because the thoughtof Driscoll’s hands on Letty ignited something feral. He caught Driscoll by the collar and slammed him into a shelf.
Metal shrieked as Driscoll swung with his good arm, hitting Wyatt in the ribs, right where the knife had opened him. Wyatt saw stars.
Then Will stepped close enough to be heard clearly. “You’re bleeding too much.” Will chuckled. “You’ll get sloppy.”
Wyatt spat blood and smiled. “You’re talking too much.”
Will’s expression remained mild. “She always liked men who did the work. Men like you.” His eyes flicked toward Letty. “But she belongs with someone who understands her.”
Letty stepped out from cover as Wyatt’s heart dropped. “Letty, down…”
She didn’t. She moved with purpose: fast, direct. She snatched the fallen knife from the concrete in one clean motion.
Driscoll saw her and reached. “You…”
Letty drove the pommel into his throat. Wyatt held his breath. It wasn’t a wild swing; it was a precise strike.
Driscoll choked, staggering back, eyes bulging. He regained his footing, coughing.
Wyatt’s pulse surged with equal parts pride and terror.
“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, and when Driscoll tried to grab again, she slashed across his forearm. Not a fatal strike, but just enough to make him back off.
Driscoll cursed, ignored his bleeding arm, and lunged anyway. Letty pivoted, using the shelf as a barrier, then drove her knee hard into his thigh. He buckled as she shoved him back.
Wyatt moved to her, grabbing her wrist. “Behind me.”
“I’m fine,” she shot back, breathless.
“You won’t be if he gets lucky.”
Will’s voice sharpened. “This is becoming messy.”
Wyatt’s gaze flicked to Will. “Messy is what happens when you underestimate her.”
For the first time, Will looked irritated. He pulled something from his pocket and clicked it.
A loud metallic bang echoed as another door slammed shut somewhere behind them. Another bang made Wyatt’s stomach drop. That sound wasn’t an accident.
Letty’s eyes widened. “He’s locking us in.”
Will’s smile returned, smaller now. “You wanted your evidence, Letty. Congratulations.” His gaze dropped to Wyatt’s blood-soaked shirt. “Shame you won’t be around to use it.” He turned to start walking away as Wyatt surged forward, but his body betrayed him. His vision narrowed again, blood loss stealing focus.
