Page 69 of Shelter for Shay
He pushed the door open.
The room was dim. The oil lamp on the counter hissed. The air stank of sweat and damp wood. And there she was—Shay. Tied to a chair, blood on her lip, chin high, eyes wide when she saw him.
Then Blake stepped out of the shadows behind her—gun pressed to her temple.
Moose froze mid-step, arms half-raised. “Easy.”
Blake’s smile was brittle. “Ah. The boyfriend.”
“I’m here for her,” Moose said evenly. “That’s it.”
“You shouldn’t have come back to this town,” Blake sneered. “You screwed up everything.”
“You did that yourself.” Moose took a careful step forward. “You torched the trial. You exposed the truth. Then you took her. It’s all unraveling, Blake. You know that.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid,” Blake snapped. The gun pressed harder against Shay’s head. “You think I don’t know what happens next? You think I don’t know what you brought with you?”
“They’re not coming in unless I say so.” Moose kept his voice steady. “Let her go. Walk out of this. You might still have a sliver of a deal left.”
“You don’t get it.” Blake’s voice cracked now. “She’s the match. She always was. Margaret set the fire, but Shay’s the one who’s going to burn.”
Shay looked at Moose, shaking her head slightly—as if to saydon’t push him.
But it was too late.
Blake’s finger tensed, and Moose saw the shift in his stance.
He dove forward.
The gun went off.
Pain exploded in Moose’s left arm as the bullet tore through muscle, knocking him off-balance—but not before he tackled Blake with a roar that shook the walls.
Shay screamed as the chair tipped.
The gun clattered to the floor.
Moose fought through the haze of pain, driving his knee into Blake’s ribs. Blake clawed at his belt, reaching for a backup piece—but the window shattered as Sloan and Kawan crashed through.
Thor and Lief stormed the rear, weapons raised, sweeping the room.
“Clear!” someone shouted.
Moose rolled off Blake, clutching his bleeding arm as Sloan yanked the bastard’s wrists behind his back and zip-tied them with brutal efficiency.
A strangled cry broke through the room.
“Get her loose,” Moose barked, already scrambling toward her.
Kawan was there, blade in hand, slicing through the zip ties at Shay’s wrists. The moment she was free, she crumpled forward, body sagging like the strings holding her up had been cut.
Thor caught her, arms strong and steady, but Shay trembled so violently she couldn’t stand. Couldn’t speak. Her breath came in ragged gasps, shallow and sharp, her eyes wide with pure animal panic.
“Shay,” Moose said, his voice hoarse. He dropped to his knees beside her, pain screaming through his arm. “Hey, sweetheart. I’m here.”
She looked at him—and that shattered something inside his chest.
Her face was pale, streaked with tears and blood and dirt, but it was her eyes that broke him open. Glassy. Hollow. Haunted.
