Page 60 of The Vigilant

I spun and tried to shove the door back shut, forgetting all about the gun and only thinking to keep her out of the room.

“Stay the fuck out!” I shouted, using all my brute strength to try and close her out.

“Let me help!”

Goddamn,she just wouldn’t fuckin’ give up.

“No—” The word ended on a deep groan sliced from my gut with the twisted blade the assassin sank into my side. I saw the pain as it sparkled like tiny white dots on my vision and heard the sound of vengeance take the form of muttered Chinese curses in my ear, both duty and retribution for killing his men.

Pain or not. Wounded or not. The instinct to fight back in the face of fear didn’t dim. It was an instinct that had been not onlytrained in me but ingrained in me to never give in—never give up—especially when there were innocent lives on the line.

Maybe if this killed me I could debate whether or not Sutton was truly innocent or not, but until then, I was going to fight until my last fucking breath to keep her safe.

Adrenaline blotted up the pain like a towel soaking up the spilled sensation. I let out a roar and erupted into a fury of movement.

My elbow struck him in the gut, and then I twisted, a savage shout of pain ripping from my throat as I slammed my other elbow into his face. This time, when he stumbled back, he left the knife in my side.

I let the pain fuel me as I stepped toward him, prepared to strangle him with my bare hands if that was what it took. I heard Sutton enter the room behind me, but as long as she stayed behind me, I’d keep her safe.

I lifted my arms, prepared for a true hand-to-hand fight, and then, with blood dripping down his face, his mouth curled into a slow snarl as he pulled a second, smaller knife from the back of his belt. He raised his arm, and too late I realized this wasn’t a stabbing knife but one to be thrown.

And my choice became clear: move out of its path and risk Sutton becoming its target or—no. There was no choice. No fucking choice at all. The blade glinted off the sunlight coming in unbroken through the shattered glass door, and all my muscles pulled tight, prepared for the blade to hit me.

The bloody snarl on the man’s face spread wider, revealing red even in his teeth.

And then the sound of a gunshot tore through the room. I watched as the bullet made a hole through the base of the man’s throat, a fresh well of blood drenching his collar and jacket. His eyes went wide and then rolled back in his head as his dead weight crumbled to the floor.

One dead at the door. One with his knife protruding from his back. And the third with a bullet through his chest.Because of her.

Fuck.

The pain in my side was blinding, but all I could think about was her. She’d just been forced to kill a man. Good, bad, or evil—taking another life wasn’t always about the character of the life you’d taken but about whether the character inside you could withstand the weight of the choice.

“Sutton,” I croaked and turned toward her. Slowly, I watched her eyes slide from the scarred man to me. “Are you alright?”

She blinked, looking like she was in a daze for a second before she seemed to finally see me.

“Me?” she demanded with a small cry. “You’re the one with a fucking knife in your side.”

It had to be the injury—the endorphins from the pain that made me register frantic worry in her voice.

“I’m fine,” I gritted and grabbed her wrist, catching her hand as she reached for the handle of the blade. “Don’t. It’ll be…too much…”

“Goddammit, Tynan,” she swore and yanked her hand back, her fist flexing like she was ready to hit me. “God-fucking-dammit. We need to call an ambulance?—”

“No,” I growled.

“What do you mean?—”

“I have a knife in my side,” I bit out, taking a breath as another wave of pain crested over me. “Can you not argue with me for once?” I wanted it to come out angry, but I didn’t have the strength. I was losing a lot of blood, and it took all my strength to just stay upright.

Somehow, I was going to have to figure out how to ride my bike…one bridge at a time.

“Fine.” Her shoulders sagged. “What should I do?”

“Get dressed,” I gritted out, gripping my side around the hilt of the knife to try and stave the bleeding. “We’re going back…to the garage.”

“The garage? What are you going to do, wrench the knife from your side and have me wax it shut?—”

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