Page 196 of Damián

“Hell no,” Zara agrees, crossing her arms.

I turn to look at them. “I’m not taking you into this with me.”

“You just spent half an hour breaking out of a room, bitching about how Damián left you behind while he ran into a warzone,” Zara points out, gesturing at me with a half-eaten cookie. “And now you want to do the exact same thing to us?”

I open my mouth to tell her it’s completely different, but the words catch in my throat. I look at her, then out at the water, and realize that in a way… It’s not.

She is right.

And for a split second, I actually understand why Damián locked me in that room. Not that I would ever admit it to his face, of course.

Fine,” I say. “You don’t have to leave, but you stay on the boat. Just in case.”

“Deal,” Zara agrees.

“Brace yourselves,” Kaleo interrupts, slowing down the boat. “We’ll reach the beach in five minutes.”

Zara gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my…”

I follow her gaze, and my heart drops into my stomach. The Hamptons estate is surrounded by black smoke, fire and death.

The sound of dozens of bullets terrifies me, but it’s also a lifeline. Gunshots mean they’re still fighting. And still fighting means they’re still alive.

Please be alive. Please, Damián, stay alive.

The second the hull scrapes the shallow sand near the dock, I squeeze Zara and Kaleo’s shoulders, and vault over the side.

I hit the ground running, charging straight into the freaking war zone.

I sprint across the lawn, keeping low as bullets go all over the place. The garden is a mess full of broken trees, shattered fountains, debris, and scattered bodies.

It looks like the hell Rafael always craved.

As I run toward the gunfire, I force myself to look at the faces of each of the bodies I pass. Each time, I thank the Lord that everyone in sight belongs to my brother’s security team and not a single one belongs to mine.

All the Harknett’s are alive.

I run toward the side patio, but freeze when I catch movement near the pool area.

Through the haze, and smoke, I see Tae engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with a guard. Tae is incredibly fast, dodging a swing and countering with a strike to the ribs, but the guard catches him off balance.

His fist connects with Tae’s jaw, sending him stumbling back against a large planter made of stone.

Tae recovers fast, but the guard is now aiming a pistol straight at his chest.

“Tae!” I scream, but there is no way he can hear me with this noise.

So I stop, raise my 9mm, and squeeze the trigger.

The gun kicks in my hand so hard I almost drop it, and the bullet hits the guard in his knee.

He screams, his leg instantly buckling outward as he collapses onto the pavement.

I lower the gun and sprint across the patio, immediately dropping down beside Tae and grabbing his arm to help him up.

“Are you okay?” I pant, trying to pull him to his feet.

But instead of answering, Tae’s eyes widen in sheer horror as he looks past my shoulder.