Page 29 of Callum

Seriously? If these two assholes live through this, they need extensive training before they’re ever allowed to break into anyone else’s home.

I watch the second person moving toward the office door, seemingly without a care in the world. They have a gun in one hand, and it looks like their finger is on the trigger.

Son of a bitch.

If that idiot accidentally shoots a gun in my home, they won’t live through this. I don’t give a shit what information they might have.

Dropping the phone back in my pocket, I reach for the doorknob again, listening for Rosalind’s next move. The moment I hear the closet door slam open, I’m in the room with my gun raised.

Rosalind has the person with the gun pinned to the wall, the firearm lying between their feet as Rosalind presses her knife into their throat. My eyes sweep to the other person, who is fumbling to pull something from a holster at their side.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” My bullet finds the center of the smaller person’s thigh, and they crumple to the ground with a strangled shout.

Stepping over to the now sobbing woman, I easily flick the strap off the top of her gun holster, removing the weapon. She whimpers, hands flying up to protect her face when I bend over her. Blood flows freely from the hole in her leg, but it isn’t enough to make me think she’ll bleed out before I’m able to get my answers.

Turning my attention back to the women fighting on the other side of the room, I realize that Rosalind has managed to rip the honest-to-God ski mask off the other intruder.

“Who are you?” Rosalind demands, the words pushed through gritted teeth. Her question makes me pause. Rosalind was always involved in GiGi recruitment, all the way back to when we were still teenagers. If these women were GiGi’s, Rosalind would know them.

Bending, I rip the mask off the woman at my feet. She screams and tries to squirm away from me, but it’s a pitiful attempt. “You know this one, Red?”

I keep my gun pointed at the woman Rosalind has pinned to the wall as she turns to examine the sobbing heap at my feet. Rosalind’s eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head. She’s just turning back when the woman against the wall gets the courage to bolt. Rosalind is off balance, that damn useless leg not bearing her weight, and the woman presses her advantage.

My Rosalind isn’t one to go down without a fight, though. The women wrestle with one another for a moment, Rosalind’s red hair whipping through the air as she spins to slam the woman against the wall again.

I stand there, watching them fight without much interest. Seeing the woman’s next move written on every inch of her body, I raise my gun and wait. The second she sidesteps Rosalind, I pull the trigger.

What I don’t expect is Rosalind stepping behind her.

The bullet passes through the woman’s chest, but it’s Rosalind’s gasp of surprise that has my heart stuttering to a stop.

Time slows as the woman’s body falls to Rosalind’s feet in a lifeless heap. I wait an eternity, my eyes scanning every inch of Rosalind’s torso, looking for the fresh spout of blood. Where is the fucking blood?

“You fucking shot me!”

My heart pounds once in my ears, the sound of her angry accusation nearly drowned out by my panic. “Where?”

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Where?” My demand is all but shouted directly into her face, and I realize I’ve moved. I’m standing immediately in front of her, my hands outstretched but unsure where to touch. She’s got blood sprayed across every inch of her gray t-shirt, but none of it seems to be spreading.

“My fucking arm, you asshole.” She spits, turning her body so I can see where the bullet grazed her. It’s barely deep enough to need stitches, but I pull her arm toward me anyway, giving it a thorough once over. “Ouch!”

She swats my hand away, yanking her arm out of my grasp with an angry glare.

She’s fine.

She’s fine.

“Why the fuck did you get behind her?”

“Why did I?” Rosalind snaps, anger causing a blush to creep across her perfect skin. “Why would you fucking shoot at someone that I’m fighting?”

“I didn’t shoot at her. I shot her. Successfully,” I gesture to the very dead woman on the ground between us to make my point. Rosalind stares down at the woman for a moment before looking up again.

“I had it handled.”

“I’m sure you did,” I can’t help the smirk spreading across my face now that I know she’s alright. “But maybe leave the fancy fighting moves to people who have full use of both legs.”

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