Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107166 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)
The thick air loosens, and a clearing forms. Then I see her. But if I can see her, so can everyone, and the thought of that has me springing into action, lifting my gun, and firing.
A never-ending army pours into the building. One after one, they pile in, guns raised, bullets flying. I take aim, hitting them as they enter. At this angle, I’m like a sniper, picking them off one by one.
Chaos ensues as another bomb explodes and cuts off the air again. Taking cover behind a fallen desk, I use the metal as a barrier and aim.
“Watch out!” I hear her voice before I see her, and then she’s running toward me, pushing my body, and throwing me to the floor. Biting pain radiates through my side as I hit the ground, and the spot I was just in blows up. Then Skye is on top of me.
Her hair fans my face.
The room around me is spinning, but I know we have to get up.
“Skye.” She winces. “Are you okay?”
“Yes. Are you?” she asks.
“Yeah. We have to get out of here,” I say through gritted teeth. I move to stand and pull her up and behind me, then I lead her out toward the basement. Gideon is behind us, right on our heels, Chaz, too, and Benedict.
“Make sure all the men are out. Kill everyone left behind. Clean up the mess as best you can. The cops will be here.”
“They should have already been here,” Gideon mumbles under his breath.
“I’m sure Felix rigged that.” I open the car door and push Skye in. I don’t have time to be gentle. We need to get out of here. Now. Usually, I would stay back to fight, but I have Skye to think about.
“Take down the whole building if you have to.” Gideon’s eyes go wide, but he knows it’s the only way.
The cops will be here. If they find the computers, my early retirement will not happen in the way I want.
It will happen with me behind bars.
35
Skye
Everything happens so fast.
First, I’m screaming for Tobias to move, and the next thing I know, the air is thick with smoke. At first, I stumble, then I freeze in place, taken back in time.
The noise around me becomes a soft hum. Sharp pain. Rocking in the corner. The gentle pressure of my wrist as I inhale to calm the frantic beating of my heart.
Suddenly, the hum turns into a ringing, and I shake my head back and forth. I’m not there. I’m not hiding in a closet. No. I’m in the middle of a war.
The sound around me rushes back, and then I’m back, and I remember why I’m here and what is happening. I hear the gunshots and try to look through the smoke. It’s a mess. I hear a voice. It’s Tobias, and he’s looking for me. He doesn’t see me, but I see him, and I also see the man rushing toward him, pulling his arm up and lifting a gun.
I move before I can think better of it and throw my body over his, trying my best to protect him from being shot. Before I know it, I’m being pulled through the haze, down the steps, and thrown into a car. Then Tobias is taking off, firing orders into his phone.
We are going somewhere, and we are going fast. I don’t bother asking where, because I doubt he will tell me. From beside me, I hear him wince as he makes a sharp right turn.
“Are you hurt?” I ask him.
“Just a scratch.” He hisses, but from the tone in his voice, he is lying.
“Are we almost there?” I ask.
“Why, you have other plans?” he jokes, but it comes out flat. It’s when the car hits a bump and swerves that I know for a fact he is hurt.
“You are not okay,” I state, unbuckling my seat belt and leaning forward. I pull his shirt up, and he grimaces. That’s when I see it, blood. I move the material, and it oozes.
“Fuck. Tobias! You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.”
“You aren’t fine. You’re bleeding. We need to stop the bleeding.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
“Then why is your face pale? I need to stop the bleeding.” I look around, but there is nothing in the car. What the hell am I going to do?
Then it hits me, and I’m pulling off my blazer, balling it up, and placing it over the wound. He squirms at the pressure but continues to drive, weaving in and out of traffic. Once we are over the bridge, I’m completely lost, but that is probably the goal. If anyone is following us, they would never be able to find us.
If he’s trying to keep us safe, does that mean someone can track my phone?
“Should I turn off my cell?”
“No one knows you’re here.”