Page 39 of Rafe’s Future

The pressure in her head was unbearable, the pain in her straining throat razor sharp. Lack of oxygen made her starving lungs feel as though they were engulfed in flames. A sea of dancing black dots filled her watery vision.

Rafe!

His handsome face filled her mind’s eye as Lena felt herself slipping away. She fought against it, but without some much-needed air, she simply didn’t have the strength.

The world around her grew black as an unforgiving darkness threatened to swallow her whole. And as her lids fell shut, and her limp hands fell at her sides, Lena could’ve sworn she heard Rafe calling her name.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“Lena!” Rafe burst into the room, his veins filled with fear and a murderous rage.

He’s going to kill her.

The man Lena had been questioning had his hands in a death grip around her delicate neck. Without a clear shot, Rafe’s only option was to go hands-on.

Putting the full weight of his body behind him, he threw himself forward in a move that would rival any professional linebacker on the field. Both men went flying, away from the table and, as was his goal, away from Lena. Her forceful breaths and rough coughs barely registered as he and the other man hit the concrete below with a hard thud.

Son of a⁠—

The chair attached to the prick’s ankles clanged loudly, creating an awkward barrier as they traded a series of white-knuckled punches. Rafe’s head snapped to the right when the man’s fist made contact, though the blow was more surprising than painful.

Rafe swung back with a vengeance, his balled-up fist slamming against the assassin’s jaw. With a groan, the other man dropped back down to the floor while Rafe took advantage of the momentary reprieve.

Shooting back up to his feet, he reached for the pistol concealed at his lower back. With the weapon freed, Rafe started to bring it around, fully intending to fire. But before he could pull the trigger, the man on the floor used his lower body strength to swing the chair in Rafe’s direction.

The metal frame slammed against his right knee, causing his leg to buckle beneath him. Rafe lost his balance, and the gun went flying from his hand as he tumbled to the side.

Rafe managed to twist his body mid-fall. A deep grunt escaped as he landed on his back with a thud. The would-be assassin attacked with a growl, dragging the chair along with him as he half-crawled, half-leaped onto Rafe’s suddenly prone form.

In that moment, the situation became clear. This guy wasn’t going to give up. It was either kill or be killed, and since Rafe had no intention of dying today⁠—

He strategically positioned himself mid-altercation so he was on his knees behind the other man. Facing the opposite direction, Rafe reached back and grabbed the guy’s head.

From his peripheral, he could see Lena standing feet away, to his right. Hard, body-wrenching coughs and gasps for air gave away her own internal battle. A renewed inferno of rage sparked to life within him, spurring him to put an end to this once and for all.

Using a move he’d learned in the early weeks of his MI6 training, Rafe squeezed the man’s head as hard as he could while jerking his arms forward. As he did, he also gave the guy’s jaw a purposeful twist. Bones snapped, the fatal move instantly separating the base of the man’s neck from the rest of his spine.

The worthy adversary’s entire body grew limp. Rafe let his hands fall to his sides as the other man fell lifeless to the floor. It was over. The other man was dead, and—for now—he and Lena would live to fight another day.

“Are y-you . . . ok-kay?”

Rafe blew out several of his own loud, forceful breaths. From where he still sat on his knees, he looked up to find Lena stumbling her way to him.

His chest heaved as he slowly pushed himself up to his feet. He hid a groan when he felt a slight tweak in his lower back.

“I’m good.” He was, mostly. “What about you?”

She’d taken the worst of it, by far.

“I-I’m fine.” A failed attempt to clear the gravel from her damaged voice left her wincing.

But she wasn’t fine.

Not even close.

Rafe went to her. He placed a gentle hold on her trembling shoulders. “Try not to talk until we can get you checked out, okay?” His assessing gaze took her in from head to toe.

Her shoulder-length hair was mussed. Eyes were watery and red. His back teeth clenched painfully together when he caught sight of the bruises already forming on her neck.