Page 79 of Until the End

“Good. Don’t,” Wheeler said. “I’ll open it. Whatever is inside must be pretty important if she risked exposure to get it.”

Zanteon knew she’d mailed a package but not about the hard drives? They sounded completely clueless as to what was in the box.

Thus far, Bravo had proven to be formidable and cunning. Before torching the Lair, he would’ve ensured the hard drives in the mainframe room were properly destroyed, would’ve seen three missing and sought to recover them.

If Zanteon and Bravo weren’t working together, that meant another player was in the mix.

“What’s your position?” Wheeler asked.

“Auditorium.” Kit’s scream carried over the airwaves, making Castle’s gut clench.

“Bring her to me,” Wheeler said. “We’ll question her and kill her off-site.”

“Roger.”

Castle was gaining on the blond man, long, brisk strides eating up the distance between them. He could almost reach out and grab him when the man ducked into the auditorium.

As the door was closing, Castle caught the handle and flowed inside. Fluid and quick. He drew his Maxim 9 with built-in suppressor.

Coming around the corner, he took in the scene.

Blondie was headed down the steps of the outer aisle. A vicious-looking bruiser had a fist in Kit’s hair and was dragging her up onto her feet, a gun pointed at her head. Another petrified scream escaped her throat. Her eyes were wild with panic, but nothing stopped her from fighting. She flailed, bit, and kicked at the man.

Castle’s stomach hollowed as bone-deep protectiveness flared.

His mind zipped through multiple calculations, rapid-fire. Every graphic scenario ended the same. With Kit captured and killed. All but one.

Blondie turned, his gun drawn. Castle opened fire—no word of warning, no hesitation. His Maxim 9 snapped twice. Double tap to the brain.

Before the lifeless body dropped to the ground, Castle trained the muzzle on the soon-to-be-dead guy holding Kit, lining up the sights with his heart. The bruiser tried to target Castle, swinging the barrel away from Kit’s head.

Castle pulled the trigger. Three rounds center of mass.

The shots knocked the man backward, and his hand slackened, releasing Kit. But he didn’t drop as he should’ve.

Bulletproof vest.

Castle redirected his aim to the head.

The low clap of the discharge whispered through the auditorium. A spray of red, and the man landed in a heap at Kit’s feet.

Castle never blinked.

Kit stood stock-still as if terrified to move, to speak, clutching the box to her chest.

The blood, the violence, the havoc was Castle’s life. It was what he’d signed up for, trained for, became one of the best for. Kit never wanted any part of it, yet the darkness kept finding her, trying to suck her into a black hole.

He wasn’t going to let that happen.

Castle hurried to her side. “Kit.” He brought her into his arms. The touch sent a jolt through him. Pressing his lips to her forehead, he ached to stop her trembling. “Sorry I’m late.”

The dark excitement electrified him as usual, made his blood burn and his skin tingle, the heady high from adrenaline giving him an almost sexual rush. But this time, for the first time, relief superseded it.

Kit sniffled against his chest. She slipped her hands inside his jacket and clutched his shirt just above his belt. Little by little, she sank into his embrace and her limbs stopped shaking.

She looked up at him. “You’re on time. But you could’ve taken the safety off the gun.”

The strength in her voice filled him with admiration. She was an amazing woman, faced every horrible thing that had been tossed at her and rebounded with sass.