Page 125 of The Last Call Home
I catch it too late.
Malerick’s half a step ahead, his arm still wrapped around Delilah, scanning the far end of the dock.I open my mouth to shout, my hand already reaching for my weapon?—
Crack.
Gunfire.
A single shot punches through the air, followed by the sickening thud of impact.
Malerick jerks.
He stumbles forward—eyes wide, mouth open, blood blooming at his side—then collapses to one knee with a ragged grunt.
“Mal!”Delilah screams.
The man we missed—lean, masked, moving with terrifying focus—lunges forward and grabs her, dragging her from our grasp in one clean, brutal motion.She kicks, thrashes, tries to twist free, but the bastard moves like he’s done this before.
“Mal!”I shout, lunging toward him, but another shot rings out—close.I duck behind the SUV, return fire blindly to keep their heads down.
Malerick’s on the ground, breathing hard, his hand pressed to his side, blood soaking fast through his vest.“Go get her.I’ll be fine.”
“I’m going, but you better not die.”I snap into the earpiece.“Malerick’s hit, get him help.I’m going after her.”
“She—” he tries to speak, voice raspy and strained.“Don’t let them take her from us—kill them all.”
“I won’t,” I growl, already moving.
I sprint after them, legs burning as I cut across the loading zone, leaping over a coil of rusted chain and veering around the crates.
The attacker is moving quickly, using the layout of the docks to his advantage, weaving through blind spots and cover as if he knows the map by heart.He’s hauling her toward the back edge—toward the ship.
“Target heading to the cargo vessel,” I shout into the comm.“They’ve got her—they’re trying to board.”
“We don’t have a clean shot,” one voice replies.“He’s keeping her shielded.”
I push harder.My lungs burn, and my legs scream as I cross onto the dock, boots slamming over wet metal.My rifle’s useless now—too close, too risky.
They’re halfway up the gangplank.Delilah kicks out, strikes him in the knee, and he stumbles—but doesn’t fall.
“Delilah,” I bellow.
Her head jerks back.
Our eyes meet.
And in that single second, I see every damn thing I’ve been afraid to admit—fear, love, fury—all of it in her expression as she twists again, trying to throw him off balance.
He raises his arm, hits her across the face.
I lose it.
I drop low, skid behind a crate for cover, and pull the pistol from my side holster.I quickly climb the ramp on the opposite side of the ship.
They don’t see me.
I’m moving fast and low, boots silent on steel, keeping to the blind side of the gangway, the waterline below me dark and churning.I can hear the pulse of Delilah’s breath from up above—choked, uneven, resisting.
They’re almost at the door that leads below deck.Once he gets her through it, I lose my shot.
