Page 106 of Her Redeemed Protector

Darkness and suffocating air.

Yet, beneath the layers of fear and despair, a spark of determination flickers. The Hog’s earlier panic, his show of uncertainty, it all must mean my guy is close.

Now, all my hope hinges on Hux. I close my eyes, willing that flicker to grow into a flame that could guide him to me.

43

HUXLEY

I navigate the downward slope, my steps cautious yet swift as the lodge materializes from the dusky shadows ahead. Suddenly, the stillness of the night is violently broken by the harsh staccato of gunshots echoing from the crest of the hill behind me. Instinctively, I dive for cover behind a decrepit storage shed. My heart hammers in my chest as adrenaline surges through my veins, sharpening my senses to a razor’s edge.

Fuck those Blackwater Brutes! I can tell from the rhythm and intensity that they’re moving fast, and they’re out in the open. The brief flashes from their weapons cut through the dark, revealing their positions. They’re all facing forward, likely unaware of Chase’s presence behind them, his sniper rifle trained on their backs.

With no time to waste, I charge ahead, putting my trust entirely in Chase. He knows what to do, and I have to believe he’ll thin their numbers before they even realize what hit them.

As I run, the lodge looms larger. All the lights are off inside, plunging it into deep shadows. My years as a NavySEAL didn’t just teach me combat. They honed my ability to adapt to any situation. Tonight, without my NOD, I rely solely on my training and instincts. The darkness, which might have been an impediment, now serves as my ally, shrouding me as I move stealthily closer.

Then, the air turns silent once more. The gunfire has stopped. I pause, listening for any sign of movement or distress, but there is nothing. It’s a profound silence, one that speaks of a job well done. No doubt Chase has neutralized the threat, his efficiency in the field once again proving invaluable.

Carefully, I circle to the front of the lodge. I scan the area, using every shadow, every stir of wind to my advantage. The entrance beckons. With one last look around to ensure I’m not walking into a trap, I step inside, ready to face whatever awaits.

The beam of my flashlight shines through the darkness inside the lodge. As I cautiously scan the room, the light reveals a horrifying sight that leaves me reeling—a lifeless form hanging among the remnants of shattered shelves. It’s a woman, her head dangling, hair tied in a ponytail. A sharp hook is lodged in her back, curving out of her chest.

Death has crossed my path many times before, but this encounter makes me sick.

Savannah often ties her hair like that.

God, please, no. It can’t be her!

I raise her head to inspect her face, prepared to bring vengeance upon whoever is responsible if it happens to be Savannah.

With a synchronized exhale, I let go, feeling a wave of relief. Whoever she is, I push aside the urge to speculate on the perpetrator and remind myself of my mission—finding Sav.

I continue searching. The light catches on a length of ropewrapped loosely around a wooden pillar, the fibers still strained from recent use. No question about it—Savannah was here, and something went down.

The sharp thud of boots on the wooden floor makes me kill my flashlight and duck. No sooner have I moved than a bullet whizzes past, but I’ve already rolled away from my spot. Whoever is here with me is big, heavy—even if he tries, he can’t hide the sound of his footsteps. No doubt, I’m in the company of the infamous leader of the Blackwater Brutes.

I crawl like a leopard, the epitome of stealth, inching closer to The Hog from behind, staying low to the ground.

“Huxley Cometti, a Red Mark agent, a supposed hero of the innocent,” he shouts mockingly. He spins around with every step, and I can tell he has no clue where I am.

I spring up, launching myself at him with all the force I can muster. It feels like hurling myself against a brick wall, but the element of surprise works in my favor. He drops his gun and flashlight in a clatter. I snake my arm around his neck, constricting it, my Glock firmly on his temple. “Where is she?” I demand.

He scoffs, unfazed by the gun pointed at him. The man’s bigger than me. He probably thinks his size will give him the upper hand. “I thought you only dealt with children. This ain’t no kindergarten, son.”

My finger tightens on the trigger. “Where is she?” I repeat, sharper. He attempted to murder her before, and I refuse to even consider the idea that he succeeded this time.

“I don’t know,” he says. “As you can see, she attacked Juliet and then bolted.”

Juliet? That dead woman is Fabian’s ex-wife? I don’t know how the hell she got tangled up in this, but knowing she was a mother, I feel a prick in my gut. This is all messed up, but I’m not buying his story about Savannah fleeing.

I tighten my grip as he tries to set himself free, keeping my Glock on him.

“Sorry, can’t help you here, Mr. Cometti.” His resistance is fading, but my senses are heightened. A mere twitch in his arm sends alarm bells ringing.

Suddenly, with a burst of terrifying speed, he moves his arm, reaching for something at his side. The flashlight on the floor casts shadows around us, but I catch the glint of metal in his hand.

I release him completely, letting myself fall to the floor. The move creates just enough distance to get out of his reach and gives me the space I need to end him.

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