Page 136 of Knot Their Arrangement

The hallway presents a scene of efficient devastation – at least ten bodies sprawled across the floor in various states of unconsciousness, with Kieran standing calmly in the middle like the eye of a storm.

He cracks his neck and rubs his knuckles with casual grace, as if taking down multiple assailants is just a mild workout for him.

Looking over his shoulder, his usual composed expression falters slightly when his mismatched eyes land on Kamari's unconscious form in my arms.

"Chemicals?" he asks as we step over groaning bodies to reach him.

"Yeah. Not strong enough to kill but totally would have an effect on our princess," I confirm, noting how his jaw tightens at the information. The careful way he studies my face makes me add, "I'm fine for now. Used to this shit."

The words come out steady despite the growing heaviness in my limbs. Years of exposure training help me recognize the symptoms while fighting them – the slight tunnel vision, the way my muscles want to relax despite the situation demanding alertness.

But admitting weakness now won't help anyone.

"Let's move," Damon declares, his phone already at his ear. "I'll let Velvet know of the cleanup on this level."

We bypass the elevator, heading for the stairs just as its doors start to close. A chorus of curses echoes down the stairwell – more hostiles, apparently unhappy about their teammates' failure.

Guess this is gonna turn into a chase.

"Rhett, we're coming from the side alleyway," Damon orders through his phone, his voice carrying that tone of absolute authority that brooks no argument.

"Already there waiting," Rhett confirms.

The moment we push through the emergency exit, I see why Rhett sounded so confident.

Instead of the G-Wagon we arrived in, a tactical van idles in the alley, its engine purring with barely contained power. A low whistle escapes me as Damon ushers me in first, his gun covering our six while I maneuver Kamari's unconscious form into the vehicle.

Kieran performs one final sweep of our surroundings before retrieving what looks like a police emergency light from the van's equipment rack. The magnetic mount attaches to the roof with practiced ease, suggesting this isn't the first time they've needed such camouflage.

The van's already moving as Kieran slides the door shut, demonstrating impressive agility as he climbs over seats to reach the front passenger position.

Rhett, meanwhile, proves why he's considered one of the best drivers in multiple racing circuits – the van navigates the tight alley like a vehicle half its size, emerging onto the street with surgical precision.

The siren's wail parts traffic like magic, creating a clear path for our escape.

I take advantage of the relative stability to check Kamari's pulse again, noting with relief that it remains steady despite the chemical exposure. Damon works beside me with efficient movements, preparing some sort of breathing apparatus that looks more advanced than standard medical equipment.

He has it connected to Kamari within seconds, the mask fits perfectly over her delicate features. The effect is almost immediate – her breathing becomes less labored, some of the tension leaving her unconscious form as the counteragent does its work.Thank goodness.

Damon's phone rings again, and he answers without taking his attention from monitoring Kamari's response to the treatment.

"Report," he demands, his voice carrying that edge of controlled violence that makes even hardened operators nervous.

"Jet's prepped and ready," the voice comes through clearly in the van's quiet interior. "All materials will be at the destination upon arrival. You'll need to keep the bride distracted for a few hours beforehand, but everything will be ready to go. No one will expect you to come, especially given the circumstances."

"Understood," Damon acknowledges, his free hand still adjusting something on the breathing apparatus.

"Where the fuck are we going?" Rhett asks from the driver's seat, taking a corner fast enough to make the van's tires squeal in protest.

Kieran glances at the side mirror before responding.

"A jet to who knows where, but I guess it's better than here." His tone shifts slightly as he adds, "You wanna pick up the pace? We're being tailed."

Rhett's laugh carries that particular edge of anticipation I've learned to recognize – the sound of someone about to do something either brilliant or insane.

"I know we're being tailed. Just wanted to make sure we're heading to the airport and not the warehouse to fuck those assholes up." His grin is audible as he asks, "Guess I should get rid of them, huh?"

A thunderous crash from behind draws our attention, and we turn just in time to witness what can only be described as orchestrated chaos.

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