Page 39 of Protecting Her

Let them think that. Let them commit resources to preventing an escape that would never come. She headed back toward the panic room, every sense straining for threats. The path was clear, exactly as planned. They'd pulled units to counter her apparent attempt at breaking out, leaving gaps in their coverage.

Carmen waited at the panic room door, weapon ready, dark eyes bright with trust and knowing that made Jude's chest tight. No questions, no hesitation. Just absolute faith that they would face whatever came next together.

"Seven minutes until the main charge goes off," Jude said quietly. "They'll throw everything at containing that breach."

Carmen nodded, already understanding. "And we will use the maintenance tunnel they haven't found."

"Intel confirms the tunnel exits three blocks east. Sarah has a vehicle waiting." Jude checked her weapon one final time. "Ready?"

Instead of answering, Carmen kissed her. It wasn't like their previous kisses—desperate or gentle or full of unspoken words. This one felt like certainty, like a promise, like coming home.

"Always," Carmen whispered against her lips.

They moved through the shadows together, their steps falling into perfect synchronization. Outside, their enemies prepared for an assault that would never come. Inside, two women who'd found each other against impossible odds made their own fate.

The final charge would detonate soon, drawing every hostile toward the wrong location. But Jude barely registered the timing anymore. Her world had narrowed to the woman beside her and the future they would fight for.

Together.

They moved through the safe house like ghosts, their footsteps whisper-soft against the marble floors. Jude led them down service corridors she'd memorized during security sweeps, each turn bringing them closer to the hidden maintenance tunnel that would lead them to their freedom. Emergency lighting painted everything in shades of blue and shadow, transforming the familiar space into alien territory.

The main charge would detonate in four minutes. Until then, they needed to stay invisible.

A door clicked somewhere above, too gentle to be accidental. Jude pressed Carmen against the wall, instinctively shielding her. Three sets of boots moved across the upper floor, their rhythm carrying the unmistakable cadence of combat veterans.

"Two teams sweeping east," the voice crackled through Jude’s stolen radio. "No sign of the targets."

Carmen's warm breath brushed against Jude's neck as they waited, as their bodies were pressed closely together in darkness. Despite the danger, Jude found herself cataloging unnecessary details: the silk of Carmen's blouse under her fingers, the subtle notes of her perfume cutting through cordite and concrete dust, and how her pulse raced steady and strong where their bodies touched.

The teams above moved on, following the trail of evidence she'd left to mislead them. Once the infiltrators’ footsteps faded,Jude led them deeper into the building's arteries. They passed through the kitchen where gleaming steel counters reflected emergency lighting like underwater mirrors. Every shadow held potential threats, but Carmen matched her movements perfectly, reading her body language with the same precision she used to analyze diplomatic negotiations.

Three minutes until detonation.

The door to the wine cellar emerged from darkness—their entry point to the maintenance tunnel. Jude reached for the handle just as movement flickered in her peripheral vision. She spun, shoving Carmen behind a steel prep table as gunfire shrieked against the kitchen’s industrial appliances.

Two hostiles stood at the kitchen entrance; another moved through the dining room. Their coordination suggested extensive training together—probably werre from the same unit and familiar with each other's styles. The kind of team that could anticipate their partners' moves without verbal communication.

Jude drew their fire while calculating angles and distances. The kitchen's layout provided multiple lanes of cover, but it also created choke points they could use to trap her and Carmen. She recognized the technique from joint operations training: divide the space into sectors, control movement options, and force the target into predictable responses.

A bullet cracked the industrial refrigerator by her head, spraying coolant in a fine mist. She used the distraction to change position, noting how Carmen had already shifted to cover the opposite approach. No words needed, just deep trust built over their protection detail together that had since crystallized in the past twenty-four hours.

"Target located," one attacker murmured into his radio. "Kitchen, northwest corner. Moving to contain."

Jude allowed herself a small smile. Their professionalism would be their undoing. Their need to report positionsand coordinate movements created precious seconds of vulnerability. She counted footsteps, tracking their approach through sound alone.

The first attacker cleared the corner exactly where training would have dictated. Jude was already moving, redirecting his weapon while driving her knee into his solar plexus. His partner tried to compensate, but Carmen had anticipated the move. The wine bottle she threw hit him perfectly, shattering his concentration long enough for Jude to close the distance.

The fight was brutally efficient. Jude recognized their hand-to-hand style—close-quarter combat techniques taught to special operations forces—but she'd learned to counter those moves during hundreds of training sessions. When they tried to establish dominant positions, she flowed around their strikes like water. Each attempt to contain her created openings she exploited with military precision.

The third hostile attempted to flank them through the dining room. Carmen's warning came as a shift in pressure rather than words. Jude rolled aside as a knife blade sliced through the space she'd occupied seconds earlier. She caught the attacker's wrist, using his own momentum to drive him into an industrial stovetop.

Two minutes until detonation.

"Clear," Carmen said quietly, already moving to check the fallen hostiles. Her diplomatic composure remained perfect despite the violence, but Jude saw how her hands trembled slightly as she collected spare magazines and radio equipment.

Jude did a final sweep while Carmen secured their exit route.

"Company," Carmen warned, her voice carrying urgency without panic. More footsteps approached from above—heavier this time, with the measured pace of experienced operators moving to contact.

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