Page 93 of Fury

“Can’t move against them until we know where they went.” He returned his attention to Hollyn. “You have any ideas?”

She gave a halfhearted shrug.

He touched her shoulder. “I know it’s been a lot, but . . . we need actionable intel.”

“Leila didn’t say.”

There was something in her voice and expression that made Davis still. He frowned at her. Couldn’t believe what he saw in her eyes. “I . . . don’t believe you.”

Those eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Her lips parted and color flushed her cheeks. “Are you calling me a liar?”

Her tone, the flush that now seemed infused with anger, warned him to tread carefully. “Hollyn, I’m not?—”

Fury’s incessant barking drew them around just in time to see his sable coat vanish out the door that hung crookedly on its hinge.

Davis hissed an oath and darted to the hall. “Fury, heel.” His boy bolted down to the stairs, barked loudly, hackles raised.

“Stay with her,” Benn muttered as he hurried that way, M4 at the ready and Glace trailing him toward the stairwell.

Ear trained on the room—all quiet—Davis watched the two. Whistled to his boy, who suddenly whipped around and came trotting back. “What was it?”

“Didn’t see anything.” Benn shrugged.

Davis turned as the alarm suddenly fell silent, the emptiness of that noise suddenly deafening and gaping.

Davis’s ears rang in the wake of quiet emptiness. “’Bout freakin’ time.” He shifted just as a loud creak popped from his left. He pivoted that way, weapon out and trained on the shadows. Saw a smear of green duck through a door. No. Couldn’t be . . . Heart in his throat, confusion rank, he jerked his gaze to the room—to Hollyn. And pitched himself down the hall. “Hollyn!”

He whipped open the door marked Roof in Arabic and shoved himself up the stairs. Saw her boot round another flight. He sucked in a breath. Toed the next step. Threw himself up, reaching out . . .

Caught her boot even as the steps thumped his chest.

She yelped and tripped.

Davis lunged and caught her calf.

“Let go,” she cried out. Turned and tried to kick him off.

Hardcore determination dug into him. He fisted her shirt and held her in place. “What’re you doing?”

Watery eyes held his. “Please—just let me do this.”

He dragged himself up until they were even. Found his knees, huffing out the effort it took to interdict. “No.”

“I can’t put anyone else in dan-”—a sob choked her word—“-ger. Please . . . ”

Heart rending, Davis pulled her to her feet. Braced her against the wall even as he heard the others shift into place around them. “What’d I tell you? Down there in the room—what’d I tell you?”

She considered him, locked in a visual duel it seemed, then realization fell over her fair features. The dam broke and she dropped her head to his chest. “That you’d come for me.”

Holding her close, hand cupping the back of her head, he breathed against her ear, “Always. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

“I can stop her,” she moaned. “If I just?—”

“Her brand of evil only uses people.”

She swallowed her tears and her grief. “If I help her, then?—”

“Then your hands are bloodied too. For what? At what cost? How many lives?”

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