Page 55 of Closer Than You Think
“Seems that Silas carved you up first, after all,” he says, running his fingers along the cut Silas made on me. He’s still for too long. Quiet.
I’m confused as to why Blake would care, why that would stop him, but I don’t have time to wonder.
A jolt of searing hot pain hits me in the back of the neck as Blake cuts my wound open again. I’m delirious from the pain, from my tears, from the shock of it all. I’m ready to give up. But then he pushes off me and I’m pulled to my feet again.
“Change of plans. Let’s go.”
Twenty-Six
Silas
“No . . . ” The word slips from my lips, barely a whisper.
Expecting to find Hallie but opening the door to an empty room was excruciating. Noting a pool of blood left in her wake was almost enough to break me.
But I refuse to give up.
I race over to the crimson puddle and drop to my knees. With a trembling hand, I reach out and pluck the small tracking chip from the center. It's slick with her blood.
A thousand horrific scenarios rip through my mind - Hallie hurt, bleeding out somewhere. Hallie in the clutches of my enemies, enduring unspeakable horrors. Because of me. Because of the monster I am.
I clench the tracker in my fist as white-hot fury and icy dread war within me. I'll tear this city apart to find her. And god help the bastards who took her when I do. They'll pray for a quick death before I'm through.
Cain approaches. “Si, we have a trail to follow?—”
The rest of his words are cut off by the pop-pop-pop of gunfire erupting behind us. We dive behind a stack of pallets as wood splinters explode around us.
I peek around the crates, spotting two mercenaries advancing, semi-automatics spitting lead. Rookie mistake, boys. Never charge an Ares agent unless you want to meet your maker.
In one fluid motion, I stand and raise my Sig, firing a double tap at the closer one's center mass. He crumples. His buddy hesitates, shocked. I put a bullet between his eyes before he can blink.
Two more turn from a hallway, but Cain is already on them, repeating my steps almost exactly.
I think of Hallie, wonder whether she got away and is alone out there somewhere, or if she was taken. The latter is more likely judging by the tracker ripped from her body. But how would anyone know it was there? I hadn’t even told Hallie about it. My mind is a storm of scenarios, each one worse than the last.
The distant echo of more gunshots snaps me back to the present, and I instinctively take cover behind a stack of crates. The warehouse has become a warzone, and I'm caught in the middle of it. But I can't let that stop me. Not when Hallie's life is on the line.
“I’m calling the team in. We need help, and we can’t afford to wait.” Cain shouts.
I catch a glimpse of movement between the gaps in the crates, shadows dancing in the dim light. More mercs. They must have followed us here. Big mistake.
I steady my breathing, letting years of training take over. My senses sharpen, adrenaline pumping through my system like liquid fire. I may be outnumbered, but they have no idea who they're dealing with.
I check my ammo, calculating my odds. It's time to even the playing field.
With a silent prayer for Hallie's safety, I prepare to engage. These bastards picked the wrong man to mess with. Theytook the only light in my dark world, and now they'll see what happens when you piss off an Ares agent.
Cain gives me a slight nod, his piercing blue eyes filled with a familiar determination. No words are needed. We've been through hell together, and this is just another day at the office.
I mirror his nod, a grim smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. The mercs don't stand a chance against us. Not when we're fighting for something—someone—worth dying for.
The sound of heavy boots against concrete draws closer, and I tighten my grip on my gun. The cold metal feels like an extension of my body, a lethal tool honed by years of practice.
I peek around the edge of the crate, my gaze zeroing in on the first merc. He's clad in black tactical gear, his face obscured by a helmet. But that won't save him from what's coming.
I take a deep breath, steadying my aim. The world narrows down to the space between heartbeats, and I let instinct take over.
Squeeze the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.
