For the first time since arriving, Keller's smile faded. "You love her."
It wasn't a question, but Dante answered anyway. "Yes." Beside him, Rocco glanced over. There wasn't jealousy in his expression, only understanding.
Keller sighed. "Love." He almost sounded bored. "It makes otherwise intelligent men so terribly predictable." Without warning, he snapped his fingers, and gunfire erupted from the rooftops surrounding the dock. It wasn’t directed toward Dante or Lark but at everyone else. Chaos exploded around them as STARR operators dove for cover while returning fire. The mercenaries who had arrived with Keller scattered into practiced formations. Rocco tackled one of the operators behind a concrete barrier as rounds tore through the spot they'd occupied seconds earlier.
"Snipers!" someone yelled. Dante wrapped an arm around Lark's waist and dragged her behind a shipping container just as bullets shredded the steel where she'd been standing. She collided with his chest, breathing hard and terrified.
"Dante.”
He cupped the back of her head. "Look at me." Her green eyes were wide with fear. "We're getting out of this."
"How can you know that?" she asked.
"Because I'm done letting other people decide our lives,” Dante said.
"Our lives?” she asked.
He smiled despite the firefight raging around them. “Yes, our." Lark stared at him for a heartbeat before a tiny smile broke through her fear, before another voice shouted from the other side of the container.
"Dante!" Rocco shouted. "We need to move!" Dante leaned around the edge just enough to see him. Rocco pointed toward an old maintenance building at the far end of the dock. "There's another way out!" Dante looked back at Lark, and he knew that he was ready to run again. He was ready to fight and ready to die if he had to because somewhere between locking her bedroom door every night and holding her hand beneath the city, she'd never been allowed to explore. She had stopped being Rafael Santos's prisoner. She had become his future, and he wasn't about to lose it.
Bullets ripped through the shipping container above Dante's head, sending shards of rusted metal raining over him and Lark. He tightened his arm around her waist. "Stay behind me."
She looked up at him, frustration flashing through her fear. "I'm getting really tired of hearing that."
Despite the firefight erupting around them, the corner of his mouth twitched. "Good."
"Good?" she asked.
"It means you're still fighting if you’re arguing with me," Dante said.
She rolled her eyes. "You're impossible."
"And you're still alive,” Dante insisted.
"I'd rather be alive somewhere else,” Lark drawled.
"So would I,” he agreed. Another volley of gunfire echoed across the docks, and Rocco slid into cover beside them, breathing hard.
"They're trying to push us toward the river,” Rocco said. Dante peeked around the edge of the container and counted quickly. There were at least fifteen hostiles—maybe more.
"They're herding us,” Dante said.
Rocco nodded. "I noticed."
Lark looked between them. "What does that mean?"
"It means," Dante answered quietly, "they don't want to shoot you."
Her face paled. "They want to capture me." Neither man denied it, and she closed her eyes for a second.
"I finally get out—" Her voice cracked. "And somehow I'm even less free."
Dante reached for her without thinking, letting his thumb brush across the back of her hand. "You are free." She looked at him. "No one owns you anymore."
Emotion flashed through her eyes before she looked away. "I want to believe that."
"You will." He spoke with more confidence than he felt, because the truth was, he had no idea how they were getting off this dock.
