Page 153 of Exposé

"I don't un—"

"My apartment," I stammered. "An assassin is here. They're fighting—right now. I need you to send help!" My grip on the phone tightened, knuckles white, as I struggled to steady my breath.

"What? Ava, slow down. You’re not making any sense."

The men wrestled on the ground, a blur of fists and fury, each blow landing with sickening force. The assassin’s hand shot out, snatching a jagged table leg from the wreckage.

"Watch out," I screamed.

With a brutal thrust, he drove the splintered end into Nate’s side.

"Noooooo." The singular word burned in my throat like claws tearing down my flesh. I bit down hard on my knuckles, stifling the scream, desperate to keep from drawing attention.

"Ava, come on you have to give me something."

"My apartment. Now. Bring SWAT. The department—"

Nate sagged to the side, his body folding like a marionette without strings. The assassin wriggled free, sliding out from beneath him, his movements cold and deliberate. Nate lay motionless—his eyes shut.

"Oh my God." My voice trembled. "I think it's too late. I think he killed him—" The words broke as panic choked me.

The assassin loomed over Nate, his hood down, revealing a black, skin-tight mask that clung to his head and face like a second skin. The absence of emotion in his stance sent a chill through my veins.

"Liam." A sob ripped free. "I think he's dead." Tears streaked down my cheeks, my chest heaving with the weight of the words. "He killed him."

"Ava, who killed him? Are you safe?"

"I'm saf—"

Nate’s eyes snapped open, sharp and alive, as the assassin moved toward my bed. His hand shot out, gripping the man’s ankle in a vise-like hold and yanking hard. The assassin crashed to the floor in a chaotic spiral, his limbs slamming against the ground.

Muscles coiled, he rolled onto his side and sprang to his feet in a single fluid motion. Bolting toward the kitchen, every step calculated and swift, he reached the butcher block as the assassin scrambled upright and turned to face him. His hand gripped the handle of a gleaming chef’s knife, drawing it free in a sharp, deliberate motion.

The assassin froze mid-step, his stance wide, hands poised with surgical precision—ready for the fight to continue.

Nate slashed the blade through the air, its edge slicing cleanly through the tension. The assassin jerked back, the motion quick and calculated, his eyes fixed on the knife with cold focus.

He swished the blade through the air, and the assassin jumped back.

I can't watch.

I tore my gaze from the screen, Liam’s voice cutting through the chaos like a lifeline. "Ava, take a deep breath and tell me what’s happening. I have men on the way."

Tears streamed down my face. "Hurry. Please."

Shoving the phone into my pocket, I forced myself to glance at the screen again, peeking with one eye, dread coiling in my chest.

Nate locked the man in a chokehold, his arm coiled tight around the assassin’s neck, chest pressed to his back. The knife drove in and out of flesh, each thrust ripping into his stomach and side with brutal precision.

The assassin writhed in Nate’s grip, his body twisting as blood poured in dark, heavy streams, pooling on the floor beneath them.

A wave of nausea surged in my stomach, the acidic burn torturing the back of my throat.

Nate growled, a guttural sound tearing from his chest as his heaving breaths filled the room. The blade plunged deep into the center of the assassin’s back. The assassin’s hands clawed desperately at Nate’s side, fingers digging into the open wound, their struggle vicious.

God, please don't let him die.

Not for me.

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