Page 82 of A Violet Obsession

I floor the gas pedal even as Rhodes snaps, “Go.”

We are closing the gap where the other two trucks disappeared around the bend when a panel truck suddenly noses out from a side street, blocking our path.

I don’t bother to tell Rhodes to brace as I ram the grille into the truck’s hood, metal screeching and glass shattering as I shove it spinning out of the way. That’s when we hear the roar of fully-automatic gunfire.

“Fuck.” Rhodes draws his sidearm and reaches for the rifles behind our seats. The radio explodes with Bailey’s ragged voice.

“Condor Two, under heavy fire, two down, vehicle disabled—need immediate support!”

“Condor Three, thirty seconds out,” Rhodes replies as he rapidly checks the weapons.

I take the bend too fast, the back end sliding before catching and coming to a narrow stretch of road with multi-story buildings on either side. Muzzle flashes are constant, coming from both sides, pinning the middle SUV—the one with our client in it. The tires are flat, and I’m not sure, with the shattered windows and the number of bullet holes in the doors, if he is still alive.

The first SUV somehow ran the gauntlet and is past the buildings in the open, though it’s riddled with holes. Vincent and Callum are returning fire.

Langdon lies motionless in the street.

Bailey crouches behind the disabled SUV, one arm hanging useless, firing her sidearm with the other. I see the rifle on the ground by her feet and read her lips as she curses. She’s out of ammo.

“I got her,” Rhodes shouts over the noise. He’s out the door before the truck fully stops, rifle up as he runs toward Bailey. I bail out of my side, brace over the hood, and lay down fire into one of the windows, driving the shooter back as Callum and Vincent cover the other building. The muzzle flashes from one side stop.

Rhodes is firing from his position next to Bailey when Vincent’s voice yells over the radio. “Rocket.”

I swing my eyes. Holy Fuck, he’s standing in the middle of the open road with a rocket launcher on his shoulder.

I drop behind the engine block and cover my ears, opening my mouth. The blast still slams into my chest, and for a second I can’t breathe, my lungs compressed. Grit and debris from the building rain down around us, and my ears ring with a loud, piercing tone.

With Callum covering, I run to where Rhodes is pulling our principal from the car. He’s bloody but alive. Rhodes locks the man’s arms around his neck, scoops his knees into a high Hawes carry before sprinting for the cover of the SUV.

I hook a shoulder under Bailey’s good arm. “I’ve got you. Move your feet.”

Once we get her in the truck, we go back for Langdon.

My mouth twists. “Later, I found out she’d been slipping me something to keep me under. I had a stomach bug that night and threw it up before it fully hit. Dumb luck.”

Lily makes a sound, but I keep going.

“I don’t know how many times she did it before that. How many nights I slept right through her betraying me.”

Lily stands and steps in front of me, her hands sliding to my waist. I brush her braid over her shoulder, fingers lingering on the loose curls by her ears. “You confronted her?”

“I was so fucking angry.” The words come out raw.

The old confusion and disbelief surge until Lily digs her nails into my sides, bringing me back to the present.

“You had every right to be.”

I tip my head down to meet her eyes. There’s no pity, no judgment. Just understanding. Something tight and painful in my chest loosens.

“I killed her, Lily.”

The green in her eyes flashes. “She deserved it.”

“Technically, she tried to shoot me first,” I add quietly, “When the tears didn’t work.”

Lily’s throat pulses, and her eyes glisten. “I’m so sorry she did that to you.”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” I shrug. “Elara did her job. She was damn good at it. I can hate her for it—and I do—but the failure was mine. I let my guard down. Ignored every warning my team gave me. I trusted what I wanted to be true instead of what was right in front of my eyes. Because I wanted it to be real.” My lungs fill with air. “In the end, I survived. She didn’t. End of story.”