“You’ve got it bad,” Koby pipes in. “Your precision is nothing surprising, but fuck, Carter, you were shooting left and right, up and down, and still had time to calm her down mid-combat.”
“Multitasking.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, level: hard. It’s odd seeing you like this. The way you handle her...”
“You’re always in control,” Ryder says. “Always detached, but you’re fucking unpredictable where Hailey’s concerned.”
“Yeah,” Broadway chimes in, encouraged by my lack of scolding. “You, the one who always said a woman in our worldmakes a man weak. You didn’t seem weak tonight. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this fucking ruthless.”
“I haven’t changed my mind. Hailey does make me weak. Sheismy weakness. Anyone with half a brain can blackmail me if they get their hands on her.”
“No one’s getting through to her again,” Ryder promises, pushing his chest out. “We checked the perimeter. All clear. Motion sensors on and alarm system armed.”
“Good. We’ll take turns in the control room.”
“This place is a fortress once you lock it down,” Koby adds. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it could withstand a bomb drop.”
“Neither would I,” I admit, thinking about how over-the-top protective Dante is toward Layla since he almost lost her.
This place proves just how overprotective. Every square inch is under surveillance, including the bedrooms and half a mile of land every which way, all available via live feeds on twenty monitors in the control room. Armored blinds can cover the house at the flip of a switch, and motion detectors secure the perimeter.
Broadway grabs the Bourbon bottle once I set my empty glass on the coffee table. He refills it, then hurls a first aid kit at Ryder, pointing at my shoulder.
I tear off my t-shirt while Ryder lays his equipment out on the table. “Make it quick. I’m fucking exhausted.”
“Well, I don’t recall you sleeping for longer than an hour here and there the past week. I’m not surprised.”
Koby watches from the sidelines, a frown lining his forehead. “Does Hailey know your role in this?”
“After tonight, I’m pretty sure she knows I’m not a college student.”
I hiss when Ryder soaks my shoulder in antiseptic and starts stitching, every needle prick painstakingly precise.
“Wake me up when it’s my turn to man the control room,” I say as soon the wound is dressed. “I’m in the last room on the right.”
“No one’s waking you. You look like death, Carter. Go to bed. We’ll be fine.”
I’m too exhausted to argue.
16
HAILEY
The world lurches into focus slowly, coming back in stages as I wake, from the darkness behind my closed eyelids to the orange glow of the nightlamp illuminating the bedroom.
My head pounds, my temples pulse with a headache, and my eyes sting as I pry them open. I’m half-nuzzled into a soft, warm pillow, the faint scent of linen filling my nose. It helps my groggy mind transition from sleep to wakefulness.
I don’t immediately pull myself up, lying still while my brain catches on, and the haziness lifts. Memories come back scattered, a scene here, another there, all mingling inside my head like puzzle pieces colliding in zero-gravity.
The room I’m in, the bed, the dove-gray sheets... none of it feels familiar. It’s not the same room Blaze kept me in. This room is smaller and—
My head fills with the memory of gunshots, scattering the puzzle pieces and jostling them together until they drop, snapping into place. Reality blurs, throwing me into a flashback.
It isn’t like the others. I’m not remembering something from the broken part of my mind... my brain’s simply replaying last night on fast-forward.
Shots punctuate my every breath, the smell of gunpowder mixing with the metallic stench of blood and sweat. I duck under Nash’s arm when he pulls my hand, then pivot around his legs. In the next breath, I’m behind him again, adjusting to his pace and rhythm while he keeps me safe.
He moves, I move.
