Page 53 of Second Chance Serenity

My heart hammers as I search for a weapon of my own. For something, anything to protect Michael. He grips the man and lifts him, only to slam him back into the pavement. As soon as the man falls still, Michael gets to his feet and starts toward me. He falls forward, and I catch him before he can hit the ground, taking enough of his body weight that I can keep him on his feet.

“We need to get you to a hospital.” I guide him over to the truck. “Michael’s been shot!” I yell, hoping the guys can hear through the earpiece wherever they are. I open the passenger side door, and Michael climbs inside.

“Where are you hit?”

“Chest,” he chokes out.

“Oh no. Please, God, get us through this.” I slam his door then run around the truck and climb behind the wheel. After kicking my heels off, I peel out of the parking lot. Thankfully, at this hour, these streets are desolate.

Michael hisses through clenched teeth as he shrugs out of his tuxedo jacket, and I glance over, my stomach churning when I see the blood staining his white dress shirt. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he says, though he presses the wadded-up jacket against it and leans back, eyes closed.

“Just a flesh wound? That’s a lot of blood!”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Because that makes it better,” I snap then pull out onto the street and head toward Boston General.

We make it two stoplights before a truck runs a red light and slams into Michael’s side of the vehicle. Metal crunches, and a scream ricochets through the truck. It takes me two seconds before I realize it’s coming from me. Pain shoots through me, and I reach up with shaky fingers to feel warm liquid coming from my forehead.

The truck backs up and slams into us again.

The horn is deafening.

“Go,” Michael growls when our vehicle comes to a stop. He points to the left, to the tree line just out of reach. “Run.”

“I—” I don’t even get the chance to tell him I won’t leave him before the door is ripped open and a masked man withdraws a gun. He points it at Michael and fires.

“No!” I scream, tugging at my seatbelt and trying to get free.

He turns the weapon on me and fires—and everything goes black.

CHAPTER 17

Michael

“Dude, you can’t be serious.” Private Adams rolls his eyes.

“He’s serious,” Elijah says, glancing into the backseat of the Humvee. “He wouldn’t shut up about it when we met.”

Chuckling, I turn my attention back outside. “You guys have no idea what you’re talking about.” The heat is stifling, making it difficult to breathe. I reach up and rest my hand on the top of my Kevlar vest, just so I can pull it away from my chest for a moment.

“Then tell us. Explain to us how you could possibly justify saying the later HALO games are better than the original?” Adams demands. “You’d have to be crazy to think they got better!”

“I stand by what I said. The storylines are better than—” An explosion shakes the windows, and the Humvee in front of us explodes. My stomach lurches, and adrenaline surges through my system.

“Contact!” Captain Knight yells as Specialist Greyson jerks the wheel. But it’s too late. Fire licks the side as our vehicle hits another explosive. We flip over, and I’m thrown from the Humvee. I hit the hot sand, and it sears the exposed skin of my face.

But it’s the least of my worries.

Pain shoots through my body, and I struggle to suck in a breath. My chest feels like it’s collapsing, making it impossible to breathe. I scan the clearing, looking for my friends. Elijah is to the left of me, lying on his back, his weapon discarded at his side.

The letter. I need to get him my letter. So he can get it to Reyna.

I look to my right and spot Adams, dead, in the dirt. His eyes are wide open as he stares straight at me, blood dripping from a wound in his head. It seems surreal. A nightmare.

We’d just been talking, and now he’s gone? How is this happening? My pulse skyrockets, and Captain Knight kneels at my side. He’s the only one of us on his feet, though his face has multiple scrapes.

“Look at me, Sergeant,” he orders.

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