Page 144 of Wilde and Deadly

No.

No.

She willed her body to stay upright, to breathe, to move?—

Then something slammed into the side of her head.

A sharp, concussive crack. A brutal, final blow.

Her knees buckled.

The tunnel tilted.

Warped.

She was falling.

The last thing she saw before darkness enveloped her was the tunnel ahead.

The path to Davey.

He needed to know it was a trap. He needed— needed…

Her thoughts grew disjointed, sluggish, slipping away. She fought against it. Tried to move. Her body betrayed her.

Davey.

He needed to know.

He needed?—

A warning. A chance. A fighting shot.

She couldn’t give it to him.

Her fingers twitched, reaching for the tunnel… for him…

Then the darkness swallowed her whole.

thirty-six

The gunfire had stopped.

In its wake, only silence.

Rowan.

He couldn’t raise her on the radio.

Or Weston.

Or Sabin.

Davey’s boots slammed against the cold concrete as he hit the tunnel at the bottom of the service stairwell. He wanted to run, wanted to scream Rowan’s name, but he forced himself to bite his tongue and fall in line behind Dom, who was WSW’s best at close-quarters combat. Cade was right behind him, methodical, sharp-eyed, ready for anything. Sullivan—silent, locked-down, and unreadable—brought up the rear, moving with a deadly efficiency.

Dom turned a corner and hesitated, lowering his weapon. Just for a second. And that alone made Davey’s stomach lurch. Because if Dom, who could find a silver lining in the middle of a firefight, was shaken, it was bad.

Davey followed, every step a painful eternity until he rounded the corner. Adrenaline buzzed in his veins, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sheer, visceral panic clawing at his throat.

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