Page 72 of Saving Her

I place down my weapon and tilt my hands skyward. “I’m here to help.”

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

“My name’s Luca. I was here the other day with Cole.”

Still, no movement. No noise.

“Stay where you are, okay? I’ll come back for you once it’s safe.” I reclaim my gun and brace to stand. “Have you seen Penny? Did she walk by?”

Her hesitation continues for long seconds before she finally nods. It’s barely there. Almost unseen.

“Did she continue down the hall?”

This time her nod is more defined. Adamant.

“Okay. Good.” I shove to my feet, thankful for the adrenaline faintly masking the pounding in my skull. Those gunshots messed with my head. The attack on the guard did, too.

I reclaim my position close to the wall and continue into unchartered territory, my vision not entirely at the top of its game. I have to blink to make things crystal, and that’s a fucking worry all on its own.

“Penny?” I yell. “Where are you?”

A thunder of footsteps sound from the hall I just trekked. Not light. Not hers. As soon as the asshole comes around the corner, I shoot.

Pop. Pop.

He crumples. It’s too fucking easy. And it’s entirely fucking clear these guards aren’t guards at all. They’re puppets armed with the least tactical weapon on earth to be used indoors.

Their lack of skill doesn’t make sense. Unless Luther truly was untouchable out here and these guards are for show.

“I’ve taken down two.” I speak into the microphone hidden under my shirt. “But something doesn’t feel right.”

Someone grunts, the sound resembling a struggle.

More gunfire erupts, the noise carrying from outside.

“One more down.” Hunt pants through my earpiece. “But Penny must’ve got her count wrong. I can still hear someone else out here.”

Pop. Pop. Pop.

This time the shots ricochet from inside, the brain-piercing noise vibrating off the walls to tamper my ability to distinguish the location.

Women wail. A male shouts.

“Penny,” someone cries. “Penny.”

I run, taking the first archway on my left to dart and weave through a dining room.

“Tadd, you don’t want to do this.”

It’s her, the familiar voice carrying from nearby.

I don’t stop. Don’t even pause. I sprint toward the sound and skitter to a halt when I find her standing in an archway, her arms raised in surrender, light from inside the room bathing her in an ethereal glow.

“Penny, don’t go in there.” I keep running. Scrambling.

She ignores me to step out of view.

Pop. Pop.

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