Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78745 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
I grit my teeth, adrenaline still pumping. “Gunner, grab the bird,” I bark, pulling Briar against my side. She can barely stand, but her arms cling to me like she’s afraid I’ll vanish. “We’re going home.”
Gunner nods, dashing for Chester’s cage. Heath groans on the floor, clutching his bleeding arm, but I keep my rifle aimed at him in case he tries anything else. I secure Briar’s weight against me, half-carrying her. The mission isn’t over until we’re outside, safely away from the chaos. But with her fragile warmth pressed against me, I feel the knots in my chest uncoil, replaced by fierce determination. I won’t let her out of my sight again.
Time to get out—twelve men, or maybe more, but we have one goal: Extract Briar and Chester. The firefight still rages somewhere deeper in the building. I adjust my hold on Briar. “Dean, we got her and the bird. Moving out west side. Cover us.”
“Roger,” Dean’s voice crackles. “We’ll clear a path.”
Gunfire cracks in the distance, and I steel myself for what might be the hardest part: the escape. But I don’t falter. Because I have Briar now, safe in my arms, and I’m not letting go.
Chapter 28
Briar
I don’t have words for the relief flooding me as Orion’s strong arms close around me. One second, I’m huddled on the cold warehouse floor, my entire body trembling from days of hunger, worry, and hopelessness—and the next, he’s here, warm and solid, pulling me free of this makeshift cage. My pulse pounds in my ears, too loud for me to hear anything but the steady drumming of my own heart. I cling to him, shaking, trying to convince myself this is real and not another twisted dream.
He leans close, breath ragged. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, his gaze fierce. Even through my dazed state, I can see the raw determination in his eyes. Everything in me wants to collapse into him, let him carry me away from this nightmare. Chester, my mind whispers, remember Chester. But Orion’s already calling to Gunner—someone else on his team—to grab the parrot’s cage.
It’s a blur of noise around us: bursts of gunfire somewhere in the warehouse, ricochets whining off metal beams, the angry shouts of men. My legs feel like jelly, and I can barely stand on my own. Orion’s supporting most of my weight as we make our way toward a side exit. Each step seems to take forever. My lungs burn with each breath, stale air and the thick smell of gunpowder choking me. But I’m alive. I’m alive because Orion found me.
We’re nearly to the door—just a few more feet. I see Gunner ahead, rifle raised, Chester’s cage dangling from his other hand, the poor bird squawking in panic. My head swims, body screaming for rest. Just a little further. That’s when it happens.
A crack of gunfire splits the air in a sharper, deadlier tone. Something smacks into Orion, and the world lurches beneath me. He lets out a strangled gasp, his hold on me faltering. I stare up at him, confusion and horror mingling in my chest. I see the dark stain blossoming across his shirt, a bullet wound on his side. No, no, no.
“Orion!” I scream, grabbing for him as he collapses. We both hit the ground hard, his weight crushing into me for a heartbeat before he rolls off, leaving me stunned and winded. My entire body shakes, adrenaline surging. Not Orion, I beg silently. Don’t take him from me.
All around, the chaos intensifies. I hear Gunner roaring something into his comm, and I catch glimpses of more Russians spilling out from behind crates, muzzle flashes lighting the air. I scramble to get a hold of Orion, but strong hands yank me up from behind.
“No!” I shriek, thrashing. But Jason—he’s back, or maybe it’s Heath, I can’t even see. My vision blurs with tears and rage. They’re dragging me away from Orion, who’s still on the ground. I catch a last, haunting glimpse of him, eyes half-lidded, blood staining his vest. Fear claws at me, worse than anything I’ve felt since this began. He can’t be dead. He can’t be.
I’m shoved into a waiting car, Jason’s voice barking orders. Everything is a haze of noise and chaos. I’m flung across the back seat, my head slamming into the door, jarring my senses. The vehicle lurches forward, tires squealing on the concrete. Another burst of gunfire rings out, this time so close it rattles the windows. The men curse in Russian or something close to it, returning fire with short bursts of their own. I bury my face in my arms, trying to steady my breathing, trying not to choke on the terror.
All I can think is: Orion is shot. My mind replays the moment—the snap of the bullet, his agonized gasp. Is he alive? Please, let him be alive. A sob tears from my throat, but no one in the car shows me any sympathy. I can feel their hostility radiating like a heat wave.