The door flies open, banging against the wall and—
There she is... hiding in the corner by a king-sized bed, wild eyes staring right at me. She’s wearing gray sweatpants and a matching hoodie, her feet bare, skin ghastly pale.
Recognition twists her features and her whimpers hiccup when I come closer. Instead of flinging herself into my arms, she jerks away, trying to melt with the wall.
She frantically scrutinizes my face, the blood spattering my shirt, until she stops on the gun glistening in my palm. Her breath visibly hiccups, cheeks pale further, and she drops to the floor, wrapping her arms around her head as if that’ll make her invisible.
“Hailey.” I let go of the gun, crouching down and reaching out to touch her. “It’s me, pretty girl. I’m here.”
She peeks a little. Then a little more, shaking all over as she zeroes in on my face and her shoulders slump. “Nash...” she mouths.
I cup her face, swiping my thumbs under her eyes. “I’m here now. I’ll get you out.”
“You came,” she utters, her voice weak. She trembles harder, tears carving narrow paths down her cheeks.
Tears ofrelief.
It’s so fucking clear. Hope sprouts inside her, sending my pulse into a gallop.
“Of course I came. I’ll always come for you.Always.” Craving a sliver of reassurance, a sliver of connection, I lean in, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hurt?”
She shakes her head, lips parting, but instead of words, faint sobs fill the space between us.
“Shh, it’s okay. I’m here,” I chant, twining my arms beneath hers to help her up. “I’ll get you out, baby. Stay close to me.”
Yanking my bulletproof vest off, I wrap it around her, securing the straps, then snatch my gun off the floor.
“We should get moving” Broadway says from where he stands guard at the door, gun drawn.
“Yep. Get out of there. You’ve got company,” Koby adds in my ear. “We’re eight minutes away.”
The alarm dies, replaced swiftly by the sound of car tires kicking up gravel outside.
“Fuck,” Broadway clips, peeking out into the hallway, his shoulders squared back. “How many?”
“Three cars, twelve men. I expect more are coming.”
The sound of the main doors hammering against the walls shakes the very foundation of the mansion. It gets worse when the first volley of bullets erupts downstairs. Either they’re firing warning shots, or shooting blind, hoping for a lucky hit.
My instincts kick in. All-consuming determination annihilates the fear that’s controlled me since I lost Hailey. I grip her in the middle, yank her up then behind me. My left arm twists to hold her flush against my back, the gun in my right hand.
“Stay with me, Hailey. Don’t run. Just follow my lead.”
She shakes like a leaf but grasps a handful of my shirt, giving me a small nod, so pale she doesn’t look far off fainting.
Broadway leaps forward, following Ryder’s instructions, and pulls the trigger as he turns left. Once, twice, three times.
Bodies drop, thudding against the wooden floor, the sound followed by aimless gunshots: death-twitches pulling triggers.
The huge crystal chandelier above shatters, showering the landing with glittering shards. I instinctively grip Hailey’s middle, sweep her off her bare feet, and carry her over to where she won’t cut them.
“The staircase and landing are clear,” Ryder tells us. “Get downstairs. You’re sitting ducks up there.”
We rush after Broadway, following his lead. Hailey stays close, reacting so fast we almost move as one, but as we reach the stairs, a gun aimed for my head appears at the bottom.
My world slows to a crawl. The next second is a fucking blur.
A gunshot rings out.
