Page 76 of Protect Thy Enemy

I don’t think before my body moves, pushing Fallon down as the crack of gunfire ricochets off the warehouse walls. He gruntsas he hits the ground, his hand shooting to his side. Blood blooms between his fingers, staining the pristine fabric of his suit.

“Stay down,” I growl, pulling my weapon as I scan for the shooter.

Another shot. This one misses, sparking against the gravel near my feet. I return fire, aiming for the muzzle flash in the shadows.

“Smith!” I bark, her undercover name cutting through the chaos.

The car door swings open, and she’s already in motion, crouching low, her weapon drawn. Her eyes lock on Fallon, assessing the situation in a split second.

“Get him up!” I snap, firing another round as I move to cover them.

She doesn’t hesitate, rushing forward to drag Fallon upright. He’s heavier than he looks, but she handles him with grim efficiency, her jaw tight with focus.

“Get him in the car!”

They’re barely in when I slide into the passenger seat, slamming the door shut.

“Drive,” I order.

Her hands grip the wheel, knuckles white as she punches the accelerator. The tires scream against the gravel before catching traction, launching us forward.

The tail doesn’t take long to catch up.

“They’re coming,” Williams mutters, her voice tight.

“I see them,” I reply, twisting in my seat to check the rearview mirror. Two vehicles, headlights blazing, gaining on us fast.

She doesn’t wait for me to tell her what to do. The car swerves sharply as she takes a hard left, the sudden motion throwing Fallon against the door. He groans, clutching his side, but I don’t have time to care.

“Hold on,” she warns, her voice clipped and focused.

The next turn is tighter, the wheels skimming dangerously close to the edge of the road. The pursuing cars struggle to keep up, one of them skidding slightly before regaining control.

“Fallback location,” I remind her, my voice low.

“I know,” she snaps. “Just keep them off us, or do we need to switch spots?”

I roll down the window, leaning out just enough to take aim. My first shot cracks through the night, shattering the windshield of the closest car. It swerves but doesn’t stop.

“Fucking bastards,” I mutter, reloading.

She doesn’t respond, her focus locked on the road ahead.

The fallback warehouse looms in the distance, its silhouette a dark blot against the faint glow of the horizon. She floors the accelerator, the engine roaring as the car hurtles toward the lot.

The tires screech as she pulls into the gravel drive, skidding to a stop just short of the warehouse entrance.

“Inside,” I order, already stepping out.

Williams swings around to help Fallon, her movements quick and efficient despite the tension thrumming from us both.

The SUVs behind us slow, their lights cutting out as they come to a stop at the edge of the lot.

“They’re waiting,” she says quietly, her eyes flicking to me.

“Let them.”

I usher Fallon into the warehouse, my hand never leaving my weapon.

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