Page 147 of Captive Audience
The firefight drew nearer. I couldn’t take cover. Couldn’t even block my ears.
There was a long hiss outside my door, and smoke flooded through the gaps. More bursts, closer now, followed by ominous thuds that could only be bodies hitting the floor.
Then the door burst inward.
Rook filled the frame, rifle at the ready, smoke curling around his silhouette. Black fatigues, tactical vest, heavy boots. His blue eyes were frantic until they locked on me.
He lowered his weapon. “Wildfire.” His voice almost shattered on that one word.
He charged for me and hacked through the tape binding my wrists to the chair. The moment my arms were free, he caught my face between his hands, gently tilting my chin up. His jaw clenched. Rage and pain churned in his eyes as he took in the bloody slashes carved into my cheeks. For a heartbeat, I thought he might break down right there.
“I’m so sorry.” His thumbs hovered just shy of my skin, being careful not to touch the wounds.
“It doesn’t matter.” I clasped the nape of his neck. “We’re alive. That’s all that counts.”
Rook nodded and pulled me to my feet. I wrapped my arms tight around him, pressing my forehead into the solid warmth of his chest.
The world narrowed to his scent of gunpowder and sweat, and the thunder of his heart against mine.
Gunfire still popped in the distance, but it was fading. Sporadic shots instead of a deafening storm. Then silence.
Aidan appeared in the doorway. Tension turned to relief when he saw us. “Thank fuck.” He lowered his rifle and moved forward, one finger pressed to his earpiece. A beat later, he nodded. “That’s the last of them.”
“Did you keep one alive?” Rook asked.
“Aye,” Aidan replied. “Liam has him in the car already. We should go. Torin can’t hold the cops off forever.”
Rook kept his hands firm on my shoulders, and his eyes scanned my face. “Can you walk?”
“I think so.” I wasn’t certain in my answer. My legs quaked beneath me, but adrenaline had me wired.
“Good. I need my hands free for my rifle. Stay close. Don’t let go of me for a second.”
He shifted his weapon into position and guided me to the door. Aidan went through first, his head swiveling in all directions, on the lookout for threats.
I gripped a strap on the back of Rook’s tactical vest, staying right behind him every step of the way.
Smoke still drifted through the corridors. Debris fell from the damaged roof as we picked our way past rubble and fallen bodies. The occasional echo of gunfire silenced the pained groans of enemies one by one.
My eyes darted over every dark corner. The closer we got to the exit, the more relieved I felt that this nightmare might finally be over.
Then movement snagged the edge of my vision.
One of the Russians, sprawled on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, reached for something at his side. His hand trembled as he recovered a pistol. With a shaky arm, he aimed it at Rook.
I didn’t think. Just shoved Rook forward. A shot rang out. Fire tore through my side. White-hot agony stole my breath and dropped me to my knees.
Rook spun and fired once. Twice. The Russian jolted as each bullet found its target.
I slumped over, clutching my side. Blood welled hot and thickbetween my fingers. Each breath felt like a searing knife probing my middle.
Rook caught me before I collapsed completely. For a moment, he looked confused. Then his gaze dropped to the spreading crimson on my dress.
“No,” he choked out.
Sheer terror lined his face, his wide eyes, his furrowed brow, like his whole world had been ripped out from under him.
Fuck. This was bad.
