Page 7 of Wrecker

A flicker of a hand. A glint of something metallic—phone maybe. Tapping.

Smart girl.

She was giving me a precise location so I was careful not to clear the debris in the wrong spot and cause her little nookto cave in. I felt a streak of pride when I realized she’d braced herself in the doorframe.

“Found her,” I shouted, dropping to my knees.

There was slight movement again, then my eyes locked with hers, and feelings I didn’t recognize slammed into me. Knowing I didn’t have time to dwell on that shit, I broke our gazes and began barking orders. “We need to clear this section over here, then I’ll be able to wedge through.”

Several hands joined me, and I directed which pieces of the wreckage needed to be cleared out of our path. As we moved the steel and concrete, my scowl intensified at the evidence that pointed at low-grade materials that should have been caught during inspection. Something was definitely off, but my focus needed to be on the rescue.

It wasn’t long before the opening was big enough for me to scrape through. “Gotta bring her back up,” I called. “Get me a ladder and a wider exit.”

My elbows ground against the debris and the fine grime that coated everything, even my throat and lungs.

When my boots thumped on the ground, I swept out my flashlight once more, and the beam of my light hit her face.

Peyton.

She looked like an angel dragged through hell. Blood streaked across one temple, her curls were wild and matted, and gray powder coated her, even her lashes. Slumped in the stairwell frame, she was wedged tight, one arm looped over her ribs like she’d been trying to protect herself.

Her chest was rising—barely.

I got to her seconds before she sagged into unconsciousness. My arm shot out, bracing her head from the jagged metal behind her. My heart thundered so loud, I couldn’t hear the rest of the crew anymore.

“I have you,” I muttered, low and rough, my voice cracking in my throat. “You're in my arms now, baby.”

She winced even though she was unconscious when I shifted her. I glanced down to assess where else she might be injured, cringing when I got a good look at her shoulder. Her jacket was torn at the seam, bunched awkwardly where she’d landed, and the skin beneath was already starting to mottle—an angry bloom of deep red and purple spreading along the curve of her shoulder.

It looked raw and swollen as if the muscle underneath had taken the brunt of the impact. Blood vessels had burst in uneven streaks, and the entire area was starting to swell. It looked tender and appeared hot, even from a few inches away.

She’d be sore as hell for a couple of days. But Blade could give her pain meds that would keep her shoulder functional while it healed, so long as she hadn’t broken anything.

I clenched my jaw so hard it clicked. Someone was gonna pay for putting her through this.

The wreckage shifted again with a long groan, and I jumped into action. I cleared debris around her with brute force—chunks of concrete, bent steel—tossing everything out of my way. When she was free, I scooped her up like she weighed nothing.

Her body curled into me on instinct, one hand—luckily her good one—fisting in my shirt even though she was unconscious.

Something inside me cracked and welded shut at the same time.

I just knew. She was everything to me now. Mine.

She was soft in my arms but full of grit. Her jeans were torn, her jacket half-burned along the sleeve, but her skin was warm against mine. And her sweet, earthy scent, faint with sweat and fear, hit me like a punch to the gut. That same dark heat from before surged low in my belly, rage and lust twining in a twisted knot.

Even battered and bruised, she was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Fucking hell, I wanted to bury myself deep inside her until the world faded away.

But first, I had to get us both the fuck out of here and make sure she would be okay.

I retraced the few steps I’d taken and grunted in approval when I reached the ladder they’d lowered into the hole. Holding her firmly, while also being as gentle as possible, I slowly climbed up to the surface.

Bodie’s face appeared, and he reached his hands down, expecting me to transfer Peyton into his arms. I growled deep in my chest, and his eyes grew wide before he nodded and backed up. Near the top, I took his outstretched hand to help me clear the last few rungs.

“Gotta go, Wrecker,” he said urgently. “I don’t know how long the rest of the structure will hold.”

More sirens howled outside as I carried her clear of the building. An EMT lunged forward to help, reaching for her.

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