Page 152 of Exposé

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

My fingers fumbled in my pockets, yanking out my phone. The tremor in my hands betrayed the urgency. My stomach twisted in knots.

"Pick up, pick up, pick up." My voice cracked as I stared at the screen, unblinking.

He paused in my living room, his hand digging into his leather jacket's inner pocket. "Hello? Where—"

"There's a man in my apartment," I whispered as though the assassin could hear me.

"Ava, I can't hear you. What did you say?"

The voice on the line carried through the stillness.

Too loud.

Too clear.

The man in the bathroom stiffened, his head snapping up like a predator catching a scent. Slowly, he rose to his full height, his eyes narrowing as he squared his shoulders.

"Get out, Nate. There’s a man in my bathroom, and he knows—"

The assassin stepped into view, the gun in his hand rising, barrel aimed straight at Nate.

Nate’s eyes flashed wide. In one swift motion, he hurled the phone, the impact cracking against the man’s face.

The hiss of the suppressed shot split the air, veering wide as the man’s head snapped back, a guttural groan escaping his lips.

Nate charged, a force of raw momentum, slamming into the assassin and driving him into the wall. The collision echoed through the room as the gun skidded under my bed.

A strangled cry tore from my throat. My chest tightened, heart pounding with the frantic rhythm of a stampede racing toward a deadly drop.

I can't help him.

Oh my God.

He's going to die because of me.

I glanced down at the creaking device in my tight hand.

Liam.

I sucked in a sharp breath, jammed my thumb against his contact photo, and pressed the phone to my ear. My eyes snapped back to the screen, tracking every brutal movement.

The assassin drove his elbows into Nate’s spine, but Nate countered with punishing blows to the man’s ribs, each strikelanding like a hammer. The fight churned into a vicious rhythm—a clash of pure survival.

He surged forward, forcing Nate toward the kitchen table, his boots scraping against the floor. With a sudden pivot, Nate spun the man around. Their combined weight crashed onto the table, splintering it into shards and scattering debris across the room.

"Hello?"

"Liam, I need help."

"Ava, what's wrong? Did he hurt you? Where are you?"

"No." The word ripped from my throat, my chest tightening like a vise as my heart slammed against my ribs. Tears blurred my vision. "He's the one getting hurt."

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