Hailey’s breath is hot against my neck, her fingers sinking into my side. She’s close, so close I feel the rapid thrum of her heart...
Nothing has ever felt as reassuring.
I curl my fingers tightly around the gun, my other hand bunching the fabric of Hailey’s hoodie.
She’s so fucking detached I don’t dare let go.
“Where’s Hank?” Apollo asks when one of his men joins us a few minutes later.
“Dead.”
That’s one problem solved without my involvement.
Apollo doesn’t falter, barking out an order that gets lost in the surrounding chaos. We’re getting closer to where Koby and Ryder are supposed to pick us up. The rest of Rhett’s goons might make it through the forest at any minute so we’re running out of time.
I reload my gun while whisking Hailey behind me. We move fast, but it feels smooth, almost rehearsed, like a twisted, gory tango. I lead, moving her to my left, then sliding her under my right arm, keeping her away from the line of fire.
The contrast between the power charging through me and her delicate body twirling around me however I decide is sharp.
I spin her again, then draw her back and tuck her behind me, all the while pulling the trigger, aiming my gun so fast it’s almost like I’m playing a fucking video game on cheat codes.
I don’t miss. Ican’tmiss. The stakes are too high.
Each bullet finds its mark. A man to the left—down. Two to the right—dead. They come from all directions, aiming, missing, dying... And I’m the maestro leading a deadly orchestra.
I control the rhythm.
My crippling fear disintegrated the moment I got my hands on Hailey. She’s here. Alive. She’s with me andI’mkeeping her safe. She follows my lead, despite those gorgeous blues I’ve missed so much brimming with fear. She gasps whenever a bullet flies past too close for comfort, but she stays close, reacting to my faintest cues.
I tug, she sinks, I pull, she turns.
“Left hallway!” Broadway shouts, his gunshots a rhythmic backdrop to my own.
Hailey stumbles, letting out a small yelp and my hands shoot out, snapping around her waist. I mold her into my chest, starved for her, drunk on the emotions she ignites.
“Easy, there,” I whisper in her ear. “Deep breaths.” I take a second to inhale in sync with her.
She’s cold to the touch, trembling all over, but she nods along, determination flooding her features.
“Good girl. You’re doing so fucking good. Just a little longer. We’re almost out of here.”
Her lips part but no words come.
We’re on the move again. She’s scared, her heart beats so hard it resonates against me every time she nuzzles into me, but she’s not stalling. She’s not breaking down. She’s not covering her head with both hands to pretend she’s invisible.
She moves with me, follows my lead.
We burst into a large sitting room. It’s closed off, private with only one exit. We’re trapped, but at the same time, there’s only one narrow point of entry, which gives our guns a tactical advantage.
Taking a stance on the far side with Hailey behind me, I shoot everyone who peeks their head through the doorway. Broadway picks up those I don’t kill on the spot while Apollo’s barking instructions into his phone—summoning the escape driver. His last remaining goon slides down the wall, clutching his stomach, hands red with fresh blood.
I don’t spare him more than a second of my attention, but that second is too fucking long.
One of Blaze’s personal bodyguards—Terrence, I think—bursts in, taking cover behind another couch. With a cold, detached look crossing his ugly face, he takes aim.
I don’t pause to wonder whether it’s me or Hailey he’s targeting. My instinct kicks in, my arm launching out like an arrow to shield her and I cover her with my body.
The bullet tears into my shoulder.
