Page 35 of Protecting Her

"Multiple vehicles approaching from the south," Sarah reported through their dwindling radio links. "Black SUVs, no plates, professional spacing."

Carmen processed this information while watching Jude's hand move fractionally closer to her weapon. The gesture spoke of combat experience and protective instinct, but something in it felt more personal than professional now.

"They're better equipped than the cartel teams," Carmen noted, her analytical mind cataloging details even as her heart raced. "American weapons, special operations forces tactics. Probably the same unit that tried to assassinate you at the summit."

"Which means they know our protocols." Jude's voice carried dangerous understanding. "Someone with intimate knowledge of our operations fed them intelligence."

The betrayal hung between them as their world contracted with each lost connection. Carmen had built her career on reading subtle shifts in power and anticipating threats before they materialized. But this felt different. More final, more intimate than previous attempts on her life.

She caught Jude secretly watching her with an expression that spoke of memorizing details and storing away precious moments against whatever approached. Their eyes met in brief contact that conveyed volumes: trust and fear, determination and something deeper neither of them had named yet.

The safe house's lights flickered once, a warning of what was soon coming. Carmen straightened her spine, gathering decades of diplomatic steel around herself. She had survived war zones and assassination attempts. She had faced down warlords and corporate killers.

But she had never had so much to lose.

"We should move to the panic room," she said quietly, noting how Jude's posture shifted at her words. "Before they cut the main power."

"Not yet." Jude studied the surveillance feeds with lethal focus. "We need to maintain tactical flexibility for as long as possible. But yes, be ready."

Carmen touched Jude's arm briefly, feeling the coiled tension in her muscles. The contact grounded them both, a reminder ofeverything that had changed since that first security briefing in Washington.

Through the reinforced windows, morning light continued its implacable advance. But Carmen felt darkness approaching, the kind that had nothing to do with the sun casting shadows and everything to do with those shadows closing around their fortress.

She watched another communication channel die, its indicator shifting from hope to warning. Soon, they would be completely cut off. But as she studied Jude's reflection in the darkened screens, Carmen found strength in the certainty that some battles were worth any cost.

Even if the price was everything.

As if responding to Carmen's thoughts, the safe house's main power cut out with surgical precision. Emergency lighting activated immediately, bathing the safe house in cold blue light. Carmen moved with practiced efficiency, her muscles remembering similar situations in embassy safe rooms and diplomatic bunkers. But this felt different—more calculated, more personal.

"Multiple breach points," Sarah's voice crackled through their last working radio comms line. "Teams moving with military precision. Four entry zones identified."

Carmen watched Jude transform beside her. The change was subtle but absolute, every movement driven by pure tactical purpose. "Time to move."

They left the safe house’s command center together, Carmen matching Jude's pace without hesitation. As they walked, the safe house corridors felt longer in the emergency lighting. Carmen counted steps and turns, mapping their route to the panic room while tracking sounds of intrusion from above.

Glass shattered somewhere on the upper floor. Multiple sets of feet moved around the broken shards with practiced stealth, the kind that came from extensive training.

"They're inside." Jude's strained voice carried lethal focus. "We need to reach the panic room before they establish containment positions."

More glass broke, closer this time. Carmen felt Jude shift beside her, positioning herself to protect vital areas. The gesture should have felt stifling after decades of diplomatic protection. Instead, it made her chest feel tight.

They moved quickly through the blue-lit corridors toward their last remaining refuge. Carmen heard their attackers coordinating through military-grade communications, and their movements suggested intimate knowledge of the building's layout.

A shadowed figure appeared at the end of the hall, their weapon raised. Jude's reaction was instant and precise. The intruder went down before he could fire, but his radio crackled with position reports. They'd given away their location.

"Run," Jude ordered, her voice carrying that particular tone that left no room for hesitation or argument. "Panic room. Now."

They sprinted through the dimness, pursued by professionals with military training and corporate backing. Carmen's analytical mind kept working even as they fled: American weapons, special operations forces movements, the kind of coordination that only came from extensive preparation—or a leak. Or both.

The panic room's reinforced door appeared ahead, its steel surface reflecting emergency lights. They reached it just as more figures shrouded in shadows emerged behind them.

Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking against reinforced walls. Jude returned fire with controlled precision while guidingCarmen through the doorway. The heavy door sealed with a hydraulic hiss that felt terribly final.

Inside, emergency power bathed them in harsh light. Carmen watched Jude check the room's systems, noting how her efficient movements couldn't quite hide her growing concern.

"Communications are dead," Jude reported, her voice carrying forced calm. "Military-grade jamming equipment. They've completely cut us off from our team."

Carmen studied their attackers through the security feeds. Their movements confirmed her worst fears: these weren't cartel thugs or corporate mercenaries. These were highly trained operators executing a carefully planned assault.

---