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“I’ll cover you. On the count of three.”
Each count has my blood pounding harder. I’m coming, Misty.
Matthias opens fire, and I race toward the wall, wood cutting my exposed skin as the crates disintegrate under machine gun fire around me. A bullet just nicks my arm before I can press my back against the safety of the wall.
“Lucky bastard,” Bash says, his voice more strained than I want to hear. I need to hurry the fuck up. All three of them are pinned, and it won’t take long for men to round them.
I look over at Matthias as he pulls a rifle from a dead guard. Looking calm as ever, he calls over to me and gestures with his head to Xander and Bash. “Just get your fucking girl. I’ve got them.”
The steel warehouse door opens as I approach, three men rushing out of it. Their bodies collapse on top of each as I fire off rounds. The last one out is kind enough to prop the door open for me with his foot, and I climb over him into the open space.
“You finally made it. Took you long enough. I started to think I brought in too many men,” Anthony says from where he stands on the other side of the warehouse, Misty kneeling at his feet.
Her arms are a fucking mess, and her cheek’s bruised black. Anthony steps on a chain, and Misty jerks with the action. Rage burns my chest at the sight of her tied to the wall with a fucking metal collar like a dog. He’s going to fucking regret that.
I shoot the two guards surrounding Anthony with five perfect headshots before pointing it at him and pulling the trigger. The hollow click has dread filling my stomach.
“You’re so predictable. I’m almost disappointed. It’s so easy to catch the great Damon Everette.” Anthony points his gun at me.
Misty’s sob pulls my attention. Visible tremors shake her body, and tears flood down her cheeks. I try to fill my eyes with the words I can’t say. It’s okay. I’m getting you out.
“I will fucking kill you,” I promise him, rage burning through my veins.
“Will you though? You’re not armed. And you’re oh so easy to break.” Anthony shifts the gun from my head, and the loud crack of a bullet echoes in the room as he pulls the trigger.
The world goes quiet and compresses around me as her eyes widen with fear, but I can’t feel the pain from being shot. Something is screaming at the back of my brain, telling me to snap out of it, but I just look at her, wishing I could tell her, I’m sorry that I can’t keep my promise, but my brothers will get you out of here.
Misty’s green gaze meets mine, searching my face, eyes tracking back and forth as if she’s trying to imprint it into her mind.
I do the same, happy that the last thing I’ll see is her. Why are her cheeks so white? My chest tightens, the air so thick I can’t fill my lungs as Misty’s dress turns from green to a deep brown. A tremor rolls through her, and she falls forward and coughs. She mouths, “I love you.” Bright red liquid bubbles over her lips.
No. This can’t be happening. I run, catching her just before she collapses. Sound seeps back in, nearly deafening as reality pushes against me. My hands frantically search her body for the wound until they hover over the hole in her stomach. My hands shake as I press hard on it, desperately adding more fabric, but blood pools around my hand. I rip off my shirt, pushing it into the wound, and the already black fabric goes glossy.
Soft fingers cup my jaw and bring me back to piercing green eyes.
I cup her cheek and brush away the tears.
“You are not leaving me.”
Her lips lift slightly in the corner as she looks me over, her fingers trailing over the lines in my face.
“You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me,” I command, but she doesn’t stop her touch, tracing every contour with less and less pressure.
“Misty.” Her head slips back, and I catch it in my palm, refusing to let her look away. “You are not leaving. Okay?”
She nods, tracing her thumb over my eyebrow, each of her breaths a soft rasp.
A gun cracks, and the burn of a bullet pierces my shoulder. I set Misty down softly. “Wait for me.”
Another bullet slices through my side, but I don’t leave her until she nods.
“I’ll be right back. I promise.”I stroke a red-stained strand of hair from her face, then get up.
My vision tunnels on Anthony, standing in front of me, feet wide. His gun jerks with shots, but all I can see is red. My nostrils flare, and my lips curl back as I charge him, the loud ringing of his gun and the tearing of my flesh barely registering to me.
I catch Anthony’s wrist, squeezing hard enough the delicate bones break beneath my grip, and tackle him to the ground, breaking his hold on the gun.
He cries out as all the blood drains from his face, and spit covers his lips as he speaks. “You should be dead.”
