Page 109 of Last Man Standing

Lincoln says something back, something short and sharp, which elicits a grunt from his sister’s chest.

“He’s pretty heavily out of it, to be honest. I thought these military types were trained to sleep light?” She bends over behind me, opening my bedside drawer so I feel her warmth beating against my back. “He’d have more than one, right? Surely…”

I have dozens, Princess. Why the fuck do you need one?

“Gah! Not here, either.” Scarlett carefully closes the drawer and steps away, oblivious to my favorite 20 strapped to the side of my bed just inches from her left ankle. “Did you tell Sebastion it was my birthday yesterday?”

She falls silent long enough to hear his answer. Then responds with a bitten, “Because he knew! I didn’t say anything, but after I talked to you, he took me outside and gave me a cupcake.”

Silence, then a melodic giggle. “Yes! A cupcake. It was actually really…” She sighs. “It was pretty sweet. Ya know, for the guy who wants to wring my neck more often than not.”

Kinda wanna wring your neck right now, Princess.

“Dammit, Linc. No, I can’t find any. Maybe I’ll just…” She comes into view halfway across the room, her trim figure shifting in the shadows. “I guess I’ll look when I get there.” She bends at the seating area and pulls on a pair of shoes. One, then the other. Standing tall again, she makes her way toward the door. “I’ll call you back in a little bit,” she whispers, stopping with her hand on the closed door. “I can’t very well chat to you while I’m sneaking through this place. Kinda wanna live long enough to eat another cupcake.” She glances back in my direction, snickering. “Yeah. Him, or Mother Dearest. I think he’d at least ask questions first. But she seems pretty keen to use my head as target practice.”

Lincoln says something. Probably, ‘yeah, Arabella. That bitch!’ In response, Scarlett’s brows pinch tight. “Mills? No, I haven’t talked to him in a few days. Why?”

After listening for a beat, she shakes her head and relaxes. “Nah, it’s fine. I’ll call you back in ten, okay? If I don’t, I probably got myself killed.” She giggles. “I’m actually not joking. That woman wants me dead, and she has a bunch of soldiers here ready to follow her orders.”

I catch a barking response from Linc, though I can’t make out each individual word he speaks.

“Sure. Give me ten minutes.” Dragging the phone away from her ear and ending their call, she slips it into her pocket and peeks my way for a long beat. Two. Three. It almost feels like a goodbye. Like she feels bad for whatever the hell she’s got planned. Then, exhaling a breathy sigh, she opens the door and tiptoes into the hall.

The instant she’s gone, I bound out of bed and yank on a pair of pants. Adrenaline zings in my veins, just like it did that first morning when she snuck out for coffee. But this is different. This is way fucking worse. I tug on a shirt and snag my Glock on the run, then I grab my boots and a pair of socks. I rip my phone off its charger cable and pull up the security feed monitoring this entire estate, then I take five seconds to search the halls and fucking pray, hope, plead with the universe not to see her heading toward my parents’ bedroom.

Or, well, anyone’s bedroom.

Fuck.

I find her in the hall, heading past the kitchen and making her way toward the front of the house, and thanks to the night vision cameras, I see her better now than I did when she was a mere five feet away in here.

I pull on my socks and step into my boots, then bounding across the room, I draw my door open without so much as a creak.

Adrenaline pulses in my veins, thundering in my ears until I’m positive the rest of the world can hear it, but I work on slowing my breath, calming my heart, and, while I have a second, I shoot off a text to the security team and demand turn-by-turn updates.

But I demand they stand the fuck down, too, and pull everyone back from their posts so she gets to wherever she’s trying to go unimpeded.

Fuckkkkkkk.

“Sebastion!”

I spin and meet my mother’s unhappy glare. She wears a pair of my dad’s boots, but the laces are untied. Blue and white checkered pyjama pants, though a thick winter coat covers her top half.

Anger roars in my veins and comes out with a shake of my head. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about it.” I spin on my heels and dash along the hall, darting past the kitchen and into the house’s front entryway. Silent alarms are already going off, because Scarlett broke the seal without realizing she needed to input a code. Gritting my teeth, I shut the alarm down and unlock my phone on the fly, then I dial instead of reading my texts and slip through a small gap in the doorway.

“Yes, sir?”

“Let her pass,” I growl. “But watch her. Where is she?”

“Headed north-west, sir. She’s moving quickly, already passed the topmost pool house, and turned at the perimeter security checkpoint.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Okay. I’m following her. Is she armed yet?”

“Armed?” he squeaks. A grown-ass man squeaks, because it’s entirely possible he has an enemy within the walls, and I already told them all to stay the fuck away. Days ago. “Not that I’ve seen, sir. She’s wearing a bulky sweater, so it’s possible she’s⁠—”

“Have you seen her stop and collect a gun since she stepped out of the house?”

“No, sir.” He gulps. “She hasn’t stopped for longer than it takes her to get her bearings.”