Page 36 of Breeding Justice

Bash muttered something under his breath, but he didn’t argue. He was smart enough to know this wasn’t the time for it. Justice leaned against him for a moment, catching her breath, and for once, he let her.

We turned a corner and came face-to-face with another hallway, identical to the last—cracked tile, flickering lights, and an oppressive silence that made every step feel louder than it was. My stomach churned, the weight of uncertainty gnawing at me. Each second we spent in here was a second closer to getting caught.

At the next intersection, I held up a fist and we skidded to a stop. Voices echoed down the hallway, growing louder. I spotted an open door to our left and hustled the others inside. The room was filled with old cleaning supplies and broken furniture, all coated in a thick layer of dust. I shut the door and peeked through a small, grime-covered window.

Two guards rounded the corner, talking animatedly. I caught fragments of their conversation: "Vito... next move... the convoy...I think they have the baby…"

My stomach knotted. Vito was playing for keeps, and if he knew about the SJ, then Zane and Hassan were in more trouble than we were.

The guards stopped in front of our hiding spot, and I held my breath. One of them fiddled with a set of keys, then openeda door across the hall. They disappeared inside, and I exhaled slowly.

"We need to warn them," I said, turning to Bash. "If Vito's planning an ambush—"

"We'll warn them," Bash said. "But first we need to get out alive."

I knew he was right, but the thought of Zane walking into a trap made me itch with helplessness. We’d been through too much together for it to end like this.

Justice winced, the strain of standing for too long catching up with her. I moved closer to her, trying to gauge if she was about to collapse.

"Justice," I said softly, but she waved me off with a glare.

"I said I’m fine," she snapped. I didn’t believe her, but I let it go.

“Darlin’, Skylar is right—” Bash started.

"Let’s go," Justice cut him off, her voice weaker than before. She was pale, and I could see the toll her injury was taking. We needed to move fast, but we also needed to move smart.

We slipped back into the hallway and made our way toward the kitchen. The tension was a living thing, crackling in the air around us. Every corner we turned felt like a coin flip, every step a wager. My mind raced with contingency plans, escape routes, last stands.

"She’s slowing us down," Bash said quietly, but not quietly enough. "We need to carry her."

"I can walk," Justice said through gritted teeth. “Also, I’m right here. You can just talk to me instead of about me.”

"Bash," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "She needs to keep her mobility. If we have to run—"

"If we have to run, she’ll collapse," Bash shot back. "This isn’t a democracy, Skylar. We do what we need to—"

"Enough!" Justice said, stopping in her tracks. "I’m not a piece of luggage. I’m not a damsel. I’m your fucking partner. Now shut up, both of you."

She was right. God, I loved her.

We stood in a tense, awkward silence. I could hear the distant hum of the city, the soft creaks of the building settling. Justice started walking again, and after a moment, we followed.

The kitchen was a cavernous space filled with rusted appliances and overturned pots. I spotted a stack of old pans near the door and grabbed one, tossing it across the room. It clattered loudly on the tile, echoing through the space. A second later, I heard hurried footsteps retreating down the hallway.

"That’ll buy us a few seconds," I said, moving quickly toward the far end of the kitchen where an exit sign flickered weakly.

A guard burst through the door, and Bash was on him in an instant, tackling him into a countertop. The man tried to shout, but Bash silenced him with a brutal elbow to the jaw. I grabbed a meat tenderizer from a nearby station and swung it at another guard who’d appeared, sending him sprawling to the ground. He groaned, clutching his ribs, and I kicked his knife away.

"We need their weapons," I said, already stripping the first guard of his pistol and spare magazine. Bash did the same, then handed Justice the knife. She blinked at him, gripping it hesitantly before tucking it into her belt.

"Justice," Bash said, and for the first time tonight, I heard real fear in his voice. "We need you."

Bash glanced at her injury, hesitated, then handed her the knife. Justice looked at him, her fingers closing around the hilt.

“You sure you’re not wasting this on me?” she said, her voice low but sharp.

Bash shook his head. “On you? Not at all. You’ve never wasted anything. You’re the scariest person I know.”

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