Page 22 of Carter
“I’ve got you,” he cut in, his forehead pressing hard to mine for half a heartbeat before he turned, barking orders to the team behind him.
River and Gideon flooded in, covering the hall. Aponi rushed to the girls, her calm voice a balm as she checked their injuries. That’s when I remembered Aponi was a doctor.
But Carter never let go of me. His hand stayed on the back of my neck like if he released me, I’d vanish.
And for the first time since they’d dragged me into this hell, I believed I was safe.
Not because the danger was over. But because Carter Robinson had come for me like a storm, and nothing in this world was going to stop him.
26
Carter
Harper’s skin was warm under my hands, her pulse thrumming fast against my fingertips. Alive. Shaken but alive. For a split second, that was enough to keep me breathing.
Then I rememberedhim.
The boss. The one who thought he could drag her into this, use her like leverage, make her afraid.
Not on my watch.
“Gideon, Faron—get the women out,” River barked, his voice cutting through the chaos.
They moved instantly, guiding the two beaten girls toward the hall. Aponi steadied the youngest, her hand pressed gently to her shoulder.
But Harper clung to my vest, her eyes fierce even through the fear. “Don’t go alone.”
“I’m not.” My voice was low and steady, though every muscle in my body screamed to tear after him. “But Iamgoing.”
Her hand slid away reluctantly, trust warring with terror in her gaze. That look branded me deeper than any scar.
I turned, rifle up, moving fast through the smoke and shadows. Faron flanked my left, Gideon covering the rear after handing off his evac. The air stank of gunpowder and blood, every corner humming with danger.
Then I heard it—boots pounding on steel, a door slamming shut above.
Second floor.
We stormed the stairs, metal clanging under our weight. My lungs burned, but fury kept me moving.
At the end of the hall, a figure burst through an exit door onto the catwalk—broad shoulders, black jacket, moving with the arrogance of a man who thought he still had control.
The boss.
“Stop!” I roared, my voice bouncing off the rafters.
He turned just enough for me to see his face in the flickering light. Cold eyes. That same slick smile Harper had described.
He raised his weapon.
Too slow.
I squeezed the trigger—two shots echoing in quick succession. The rounds slammed into his shoulder and thigh, spinning him sideways. He crashed against the rail, weapon clattering to the steel grate.
I was on him in seconds, slamming him down hard, zip ties biting into his wrists.
“You made one mistake,” I snarled, my knee grinding into his back. “You touchedher.”
He spat blood, laughing low. “This isn’t over, soldier. She’s marked now. More than you can stop.”
