Page 113 of Playing With Danger

We live this drill.

“In three…two…”

We run it, train for it, we fucking own this.

The explosive detonated. Trey shouldered through. Matt rushed in, Liberty on his ass.

Luke took off in a sprint with me less than a step behind him. We hit the door, my left hand went to his shoulder, and as one we entered.

“Down!” Liberty shouted.

I cleared the right side of the room, sweeping to the middle, and my breath wheezed out of my body in one agonizing exhale.

“Get your ass down,” Matt demanded.

I holstered my Sig and took off in a dead sprint.

There was blood everywhere.

Too much fucking blood.

“Take her!” Trey shouted as Khloe raised her knife.

Without thought I jumped the last two feet.

“No shot,” Matt called.

I hit Sophie. The wheelchair she was in pitched to the side and went down with us. I kicked it out of the way and folded myself over her.

Two shots rang out as I tucked her close.

“Down,” Liberty announced. “Clear.”

“Drake, medic,” Trey called in. “Critical.”

Critical.

“Get Logan in here,” Luke demanded. “Roll off. We gotta check her.”

Luke didn’t wait for me to comply before he yanked me to the side.

Logan dropped to the other side of Sophie and tore her shirt open from neck to hem.

“Move, Valentine.” Luke muscled his way in.

I moved to give the men room to move. Impotence like I’d never felt crashed over me.

Stab wounds.

At least three I could count under all the blood.

Jesus fuck.

I tore my glove off and wrapped my hand around her throat searching for her pulse.

Please, baby.

Be alive.

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