Page 56 of Hide Little Traitor

“By the way, how is this little plan of yours to force Chloe to marry you going?”

“Not really the time to discuss my failed scheme, Ry.”

“I’m glad you can acknowledge it was a scheme.” I get a clear shot as one of the men steps across the threshold and take it.

His body drops in the doorway, adding a convenient obstacle to slow any other intruders down.

This attack is coordinated, and although I’d love nothing more than to blame Damon if for no other reason than to have an excuse to kill him, it can’t be.

I searched him and everything he brought with him when he got on the plane, and his phone is currently smashed to a million pieces on the jet.

He hasn’t had a moment alone since he joined us, which rules him out as a suspect.

Unfortunately for now, he gets to live.

I take out the next guy that comes through the door, but gunshots in the kitchen pull my attention from the front door.

Kingston ducks behind the island, only popping up to return fire, and I take the opportunity to take them out while they’re distracted.

“Good to see your aim hasn’t slipped during your time with the De Marcos,” he quips, pushing to his full height once the two shooters in the kitchen drop to the ground.

“There wasn’t much to do other than stalk Chloe and practice shooting,” I admit, reveling in the way his face hardens at the reminder that I fell for the woman he made me swear I wouldn’t touch.

Gunshots sound upstairs, and we both curse, immediately falling back into work mode.

“Where’s the armory?” I ask, rounding the stairs and taking them two at a time.

“The garage,” Kingston replies from behind me. As much shit as I give him for his age, he’s in better shape than most twenty-year-olds I’ve met.

“Fuck,” I murmur, checking how many bullets I have left in the only gun I have on me.

In any other circumstance, I would love a fight without them, but not when it’s Chloe’s safety in jeopardy.

My only priority is getting her out of this house safely.

Reaching the top of the stairs, I sprint toward the sound of gunfire with Kingston on my heels.

A masked figure in the doorway drops as a bullet slices through his throat, blood gushing from the wound in a way I would find amusing on any other day.

But when another man dressed in all black steps into the doorway with his gun raised, he pulls the trigger before Kingston lands a perfect headshot from over my shoulder.

I don’t get to congratulate him on his shot, though, because a cry of pain permeates the now quiet house, and I’m once again sprinting toward them.

If one of these assholes shot my siren, I’m going to wipe their entire bloodline from the face of the earth as penance.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

CHLOE

NOW

Idash toward the bathroom, my heart beating so hard it hurts, but the adrenaline pushes me forward.

Each shot makes me flinch, expecting to feel pain explode through my body, but it never comes.

The sound of a body hitting the ground would probably traumatize most people, but when you’ve seen someone be tortured to death, a bullet seems like mercy in comparison.

I know which one I’d prefer if given the choice.