Page 105 of Unbroken

“Two black vans. East alley. Move.Now.” Ice churns in my veins.

Zoya’s voice is calm, but I know what calm sounds like when you’re terrified.

Luka’s inside.

Zoya confirmed it on the comm not two minutes ago before the shit hit the fucking fan. But I haven’t seen Ruthie in eight hours.

We planned it this way. We needed a trial, needed to practice how to take them on in the event of an ambush.

I slam the door behind me and run, gun already warm in my hand. My men fan out across the block, but my pulse only locks onto one point.

Please still be there. Please?—

I round the corner, and it hits me like a fucking truck.

She’s there.

Ruthie.

Too-big tactical vest thrown over a tank top, hair a mess, eyes pure fire. Oh god.

She’s already outside, kneeling by Luka.

Luka?

When did he come out here? He wasn’t supposed to be here.

She tucks him behind a dumpster. Her hand is steady on his shoulder, the other gripping a pistol like it’s second nature. Her stance is wrong—she favors her ankle. Still hurt. Still moving.

Rafail was right. Shedoesknow her way around a gun.

When she sees me, she nods and smiles. Pretending everything’s okay, that we’re practicing just like we planned.Luka waves. Then I know. She’s doing this for him. We’re playing a game. It’s just a game.

But I seeeverything.And I know the second everything shifts. My blood simmers, and my instincts snap into place.

Three figures are coming from the alley. Tight formation. Coordinated.

Irish. Not Bratva. No colors, just quiet killers.

Not a fucking drill.

I don’t think. Imove.

“Get him down!” I scream at Ruthie.

Gun up, the first shot lands clean—center mass. The second hits the runner’s thigh, and screams erupt. Luka curls tighter into Ruthie’s side, her hand over his ears, his head against her chest.

She spins toward the shots, gun raised.

Then she looks at me.

Time stops..

Everything goes still. Andsharp.

Her eyes find mine. Wide. Disbelieving. Hopeful.

And then?—

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