Page 213 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Silence. The warehouse suddenly felt colder. Much colder. I looked down at the woman clinging to my chest.

Bruised. Bleeding. Barely able to stand. Still shaking. Walker knew. Collins knew. Every man in that warehouse knew. They'd watched me throw away every tactical rule I'd ever lived by. They'd watched me abandon cover. Drop my rifle. Run into open fire. Shield her with my own body without thinking for a single second.

I hadn't just rescued Seraphina Calloway.

I'd shown every surviving monster exactly where to put the knife if they ever wanted to destroy me. I tightened my arms around her anyway.

Let them fucking know.

I'd burn this entire fucking county to the ground before I let them touch her again.

Elias

The abandoned storage yard pulsed beneath violent flashes of red and blue, the emergency strobes washing across corrugated steel, shattered warehouse windows, and the slick gravel in harsh, repeating waves. Diesel engines idled in uneven rhythms while paramedics flooded the compound with organised urgency, their reflective jackets catching the lights every few seconds like moving beacons. Radios barked over one another in overlapping bursts of coded traffic, stretchers rattled across broken concrete, trauma bags were thrown open, oxygen bottles hissed to life, and everywhere I looked people were moving with the practiced efficiency that only came after seeing too much death.

The twelve women from the shipping container were being lifted onto stretchers one after another, thick silver thermal blankets wrapped tightly around shaking shoulders while oxygen masks disappeared against bruised, soot-covered faces. Medics checked pupils, counted respirations, called out blood pressure readings, searched for internal bleeding, fractures, dehydration, shock. One woman cried. Another simply stared at the sky. One clung to a paramedic's wrist as though letting go meant disappearing again.

Every single one of them was alive. Thank God. For the first time in four months… The ledger hadn't grown.

I stood beside the rear wheel of the nearest ambulance with Seraphina tucked firmly against my side, my arm locked around her shoulders with a grip I couldn't seem to loosen. Every time I relaxed even slightly, her entire body instinctively folded straight back against the Kevlar covering my chest, searching for contact before she'd even realised she'd moved. Her fingers remained twisted tightly in the front of my tactical vest, knuckles white beneath the dried blood coating her skin. Since I'd cut the ropes from her wrists inside that warehouse she hadn't let go of me once.

Not once.

I wasn't entirely sure I wanted her to.

A paramedic in green state scrubs approached carrying a heavy orange trauma kit, stopping a respectful distance away before looking between the two of us. His expression shifted almost immediately. He'd already realised the problem wasn't physical.

"Sir," he said carefully. "She needs to come with us in the secondary ambulance. We need to clear the scene."

"No."

The word left my mouth before I even realised, I'd answered. The medic blinked behind his glasses.

"I mean..." I dragged a hand across my jaw, forcing myself to breathe before looking down at the top of Seraphina's dark head instead of the organised chaos unfolding around us. "Baby..." My voice came out rougher than I intended.

"Will you let them look after you? Will you go with the ambulance?"

She didn't even raise her head. Her forehead stayed pressed against the centre of my chest. A small, stubborn shake brushed against my ribs.

"No."

"They need to check your injuries."

Another shake.

"No."

"Seraphina..."

Her fingers tightened painfully against the front of my vest.

"No."

The medic looked at me helplessly, clipboard balanced against one forearm, pen hovering uselessly above the paper. I let out a slow breath, the cold night air burning my lungs.

"Can you walk?"

She nodded once. Barely.