Page 112 of Hot Chocolate & Hitmen

She’s currently floating around the table, adjusting a fork here and a spoon there, as if everything isn’t already set perfectly. I can’t look away. It’s like there’s this pull, this warmth that’s settling in my chest. It’s like we’ve finally found our home.

“Is there anything you can’t do, Sugar?” I ask, trying to keep my voice casual. But even I can hear the admiration that sneaks in. She glances up, her cheeks turning pink as she brushes off the compliment.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s a long list,” she laughs softly. “But it’s nice to cook for…well, for people who actually enjoy it.” Her eyes flick up, and she gives me this shy smile that just about kills me.

“Then cheers to our Little One,” Teddy says, clinking his glass and grinning at her. “For saving us from another meal of freeze-dried cardboard.”

I raise my glass, nodding along with him. “To you, Sugar,” I say, keeping my eyes on her. She ducks her head a little, that shy smile still there, and something in my chest tightens. Damn. I know I’d do anything to keep that smile on her face. I’d raze the world and everyone in it if I had to.

I lean a little closer, lowering my voice so only she can hear. “You’ve made this place feel like home.” The words slip out before I realize what I’m saying, but I don’t regret it. Not even a little. She meets my gaze, and her smile fades into something softer.

I open my mouth, the terrifying accurate proclamation ready to spill. That four letter word that shouldn’t exist so quickly–yet has never felt more real–sits right on the tip of my tongue.

But then–

Bang.

Crash.

The sounds tear through the room like thunder, echoing off the walls and rattling the glasses. My pulse surges, and I don’t need to look to know what’s coming. Instincts take over.

“Grace, get down!” I shout, grabbing her arm and yanking her behind me. My other hand finds the knife in my boot. Teddy and Atlas are on their feet, mirroring my stance as we push the table on its side.

A swarm of bodies floods through the doorway, all dressed in dark gear and armed to the teeth. My mind barely registers the number–five, six, seven,too many to count–each one brandishing a weapon as they rush in, barrels gleaming in the low light.

This isn’t just an attack; it’s an all-out assault.

The first shot splits the air, sending my heart into overdrive. My instincts are screaming, my senses heightening as more shots blast through the back door, the gunfire echoing through the cabin like rolling thunder.

“Stay down!” I yell, shoving her to the floor as I scan for options, my mind racing.

Teddy and Atlas are already moving, adrenaline kicking in as they take stock of the attackers pouring through the door. The bastards don’t hesitate, firing shots at us that ricochet off walls and cabinets, splintering wood and shattering glass in a chaotic storm of bullets.

I duck low, dragging Grace along with me as we crouch behind the overturned table, the guys moving to other positions in the room. My fingers itch for a weapon, anything, but we hadn’t expected this. I look over at Teddy, who’s pressed behind the kitchen island, his eyes scanning the chaos.

Teddy dives to his left, reaching into a low cabinet where we’d stashed a Glock. The moment his fingers close around it, he’s back on his feet, firing off a series of precise shots that take down a few of the men advancing toward us.

“Atlas!” Teddy yells, tossing him a second gun he pulls from another hidden stash point. Atlas catches it midair from his position, his movements fluid and focused. He rolls out of the way just as a bullet zips past him, embedding itself in the wall behind him. A growl rumbles from his chest as he returns fire, aiming with deadly accuracy, his shots punctuating the constant clatter of gunfire around us.

I need to get another gun, but it’s hidden across the room, just out of reach in the drawer under the sink. I grit my teeth, knowing I’ll have to fight my way there bare-handed. I glance at Grace, huddled low and clutching a kitchen knife, her eyes wide with fear but locked on mine, trusting me. I give her arm a reassuring squeeze. “Stay here, don’t move.”

I surge forward, launching myself across the room, dodging a spray of bullets as I go. One grazes my shoulder, but I push through the pain, reaching the sink and yanking the drawer open. My hand finds cold metal, and I pull out my gun, checking it with practiced motion. The weight of it steadies me as I turn back, ready to jump into the fray.

The attackers have split, two heading for Grace’s hiding spot while the others try to corner Teddy and Atlas. I fire a shot, taking one down just as he raises his weapon toward Grace. The other sees me and jerks, firing a wild shot that clips the edge of the counter. Knowing he’s positioned in between me and Grace, and not wanting to risk any shots hitting her, I throw myself at him and tackle him to the floor as his gun clatters out of reach. We struggle, and I land a solid punch to his jaw, knocking him out cold before firing a shot into his head.

“Grace!” I call, seeing her eyes peeking up at me as she huddles next to the table. She’s shaking but steady, her grip tight on the large carving knife, her gaze flicking between me and the chaos around us.

More attackers surge through the door.

I throw myself back into the fight, firing at the nearest one, who ducks just in time, his gun trained on Teddy. But before he can fire, Atlas appears behind him, grabbing him in a chokehold and twisting him to the ground. A single shot from Atlas ends the struggle.

The gunfire slows as we empty our clips, but I realize the attackers aren’t stopping–they’re just getting more determined. We’re down to blades, while they’re still armed. This isn’t looking good. I glance around, trying to find anything that could even the odds.

Another surge of attackers rushes through the shattered doorway. I throw myself at the nearest one, ducking under his pistol as he takes aim at Teddy. I bring my knife up and slam it into his forearm. He howls, and his gun clatters to the floor. Grabbing it, I spin to see another attacker closing in on Atlas from behind.

“Atlas–duck!” I shout, tossing the gun. He dives forward, rolling just as the attacker fires. The bullet zips over Atlas’ shoulder, and he twists up, catching the guy off guard with a brutal punch to the ribs, then sweeping his legs out from under him. As soon as he’s down, I move to back him up, bringing my blade down on his gun hand, making sure he can’t fire again.

“Behind you!” Grace’s shout snaps me back, and I whip around just as two more guys storm in, one with a shotgun. I grab the metal tray from the table–the one currently housing a small sugar cookie village that Grace poured her heart into creating–and fling it like a frisbee. It smacks into the shotgun’s barrel, throwing the attacker’s aim off, and the blast goes wide, splintering the cabinet beside Teddy’s head. He reacts instantly, lunging at the attacker and tackling him to the ground.

---