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Chapter Nineteen

Mason

I’d been startled awake, but by what, I wasn’t sure. Hazel slept soundly, curled up on her side. I untangled from her grasp and quietly grabbed my gun on the dresser tucked beneath my pants.

I headed out of the bedroom, and Uncle Jeb was in the hallway, shotgun in hand. His eyes, tight and narrow, focused on the same thing I was, listening for what had awoken both of us. My uncle had served in the marines many years ago. I gave him hand signals, not wanting to make a sound.

Bear howled from down below, and I hurried, gun drawn as I tore down the stairs as quiet as possible. I needed to protect Hazel, and the best way to do that was to keep her upstairs and out of harm’s way.

Uncle Jeb followed just behind me with his shotgun.

I didn’t want to tell him he’d need more firepower than that if the men who were after Hazel had shown up. How had they found her? I’d been careful, making sure that no one had tailed my truck. Had there been a tracker on the vehicle or on Hazel?

I’d given her the bangle, but there was no way that they could have hacked into our tracker. I was confident in our equipment and the security measures that we’d taken to ensure her safety.

Bear growled and barked. The sweet dog had been trained to attack. He’d sensed danger as much as we had.

Uncle Jeb came up on my right side while I flanked left and headed down the hallway. We left the lights off to our advantage. My uncle knew his house in the dark, and I’d spent enough summers visiting that I was familiar with the layout.

Gunfire erupted from all angles outside, firing into the farmhouse. I hit the ground for cover. There was nowhere else to go. I crawled on my stomach toward the window. When the firing ceased after several long rounds, I poked my head up to see what awaited us.

There were dozens of vehicles with their lights on and engines running just outside the house. I needed more manpower. Even if I gave Hazel a weapon, it wouldn’t be enough. I hurried back up the stairs and threw the door open.

She stood in the middle of the bedroom, pulling on the sweatshirt, getting dressed. I grabbed her arm and dragged her to come with me. “We need to get you out of here. It’s a bloodbath.” I wouldn’t wait for them to come and take her.

Uncle Jeb shot off his weapon. With every shot, he had to reload, costing us precious time.

Bullets tore through the house, ripping apart the walls. The men outside didn’t have shotguns or pistols. They had semi-automatic weapons and didn’t have to reload as often.

The first round had burned through the first floor. After they reloaded, they were now aiming haphazardly upstairs, wrecking every inch of the property that they could, ensuring there were no survivors.

I sheltered Hazel, covered her with my body as I lay above her on the floor. Fragments of wood and glass sliced my skin. My arms burned, and blood dripped from my cheek. I ignored the pain. All that mattered was getting her out of here alive.

The firing ceased, and I grabbed Hazel by the arm, hoisting her to her feet. She trembled in my grip. “We need to move.” I led her down the stairs, my hand in hers, as I pulled her with me and kept her close to my body.

The headlights from the vehicles outside shined inside the farmhouse through the bullet holes.

Uncle Jeb sat on the floor, slumped down. Blood trickled from his chest and neck as he gasped for breath. “Get her—out of here.”

“Everyone inside! Sweep the place. I want her dead or alive,” Franco shouted his orders to the men outside.

I dragged Hazel with me down to the laundry room. Beneath the floor was a false door. I pulled the board and opened the hatch. “Get in.”

She shook her head violently and folded her arms across her chest. She’d been trembling earlier, but now she was shaking even more wildly.

I ran a hand over her cheek. I hadn’t seen any blood on her, except for a few cuts and scrapes from the bullet shrapnel.

“I can’t.”

“You have to.” We were running out of time. I needed her to hide, and then I had to cover the trap door to protect her. I didn’t have time to even consider how I’d handle the men as they charged inside the house.

“I’m claustrophobic,” she said.

“Shit. Then you’re going to have to run.” I prayed the men were all coming in through the front and back entrance. I hurried toward the side of the house, away from the doors, and used my elbow to clear the fragments of glass that had shard but not fully broken and fell in the firefight.

I didn’t see any men, but I could hear them. I helped Hazel through the window along with Bear, hoping that she’d protect Hazel.

Men came stampeding through the house, guns drawn. I hurried out of the room, not wanting to give Hazel’s whereabouts to any of the men searching for her.

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