Page 33 of Carter
Every shot, every order, every breath boiled down to one thing—keep her alive.
And as the stairwell filled with gunfire and shouts, I knew this was just the beginning.
They’d marked her.
Now they’d have to get through me to finish it.
44
Harper
The world erupted behind me. Gunfire cracked through the stairwell, each shot slamming into my chest like a physical blow even though none of them touched me. River’s hand clamped around my arm, pulling me down the stairs so fast I stumbled, my breath catching on every step.
I twisted, desperate for a glimpse of Carter. He was there—always there—his body moving with terrifying precision, his rifle kicking against his shoulder, every line of him focused and unrelenting. The sound of bullets tearing through concrete made me flinch, but he didn’t waver.
“Eyes forward,” River barked, his voice a sharp blade against the chaos.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t look away from Carter, not when the stairwell seemed to swallow him in smoke and shadows. My heart was a wild drumbeat, not from the men chasing us, but from the one who stayed between them and me.
We hit the lobby, the air colder, emptier, every echo too loud. Gideon’s voice cut through the haze—“Clear right!”—ashe shoved open the side exit. The night air rushed in, sharp and biting, carrying the tang of exhaust and gunpowder.
River yanked me through the door, but I twisted again, panic clawing at me. Carter wasn’t there.
“Carter!” The cry ripped out before I could stop it.
He burst through a heartbeat later, slamming the door shut behind him, his chest heaving, sweat and smoke streaking his face. His eyes locked on mine, blazing with fury and something deeper—something that made my knees weaken even as my lungs fought for air.
“I told you—behind me,” he growled, his hand gripping my arm like a lifeline.
I wanted to tell him I was fine. That I could handle it. But the truth was, my body was shaking, adrenaline burning too hot. And the only thing holding me together was the feel of his hand, rough and steady, pulling me forward into the dark.
The night wasn’t quiet. Not anymore. Sirens wailed in the distance, shouts echoed from the building, engines roared down the street. We weren’t safe—not even close.
But Carter was here.
And as long as he was, I wasn’t going to fall apart.
45
Carter
The night air bit cold against my skin, but it was the sound behind us—the shouts, the echo of boots, the metallic clang of the stairwell door—that kept my blood sharp. We weren’t clear yet. Not even close.
“Vehicle’s two blocks out,” Gideon muttered, his voice tight as he spoke into his comm. “Cyclone’s bringing it around, ETA four minutes.”
Four minutes might as well have been a lifetime.
“River, left flank. Gideon, cover rear. I’ve got Harper,” I ordered, my grip firm on her arm as we cut into the alley. My eyes scanned everything—windows, rooftops, the sliver of streetlights spilling across the pavement. Every shadow was a threat.
Harper stumbled once on broken asphalt, and I tightened my hold, pulling her into my chest for a second. “Stay with me,” I murmured, my voice low but fierce.
“I am,” she whispered back, her breath ragged, her eyes searching mine. For an instant, the chaos faded, and all I saw was her trust. Fragile. Fierce. Absolute.
I forced myself to look away, to keep moving. Trust was aluxury in a warzone, and that’s exactly what this city had become.
We reached the end of the alley. River signaled clear, then darted across the open stretch, rifle sweeping side to side. I pulled Harper with me, every muscle coiled tight, ready to throw myself between her and whatever came next.
Headlights appeared down the block, engine revving low and fast. Relief loosened my chest only an inch. Cyclone’s SUV slid to a stop, the side door already open, his hand gripping the wheel tight.
