Page 75 of His Angel

We round the corner, and a man dressed in black, a balaclava covering his face, stands at the end of the corridor. As he lifts his gun, I yank Everly close, my hand on the back of her head as I force her to bury her face against my chest.

I aim and pull the trigger, Everly’s shrieks of fear ringing louder than the gunshot.

The fucker collapses, and I place a quick kiss on her temple. “I got you, baby girl. Let’s go.”

We’ve just stepped over the bleeding corpse when another fucker storms toward us. I shove Everly to the side, her cries slicing through my marrow, and I grab the guy before he gets a chance to reach her, slamming him against the wall, muzzle pressed against his throat, and I squeeze the trigger.

Blood splatters everywhere, my face, the wall, the floor, the fucking ceiling.

“Oh, my God,” Everly sobs, hyperventilating.Fuck!She can’t have an attack now. I don’t have an inhaler.Shit!

I let go of the lifeless body, letting it slide down the wall, then rush up to her, cupping her cheeks with my bloody hands. “Look at me.”

She’s gasping.

“Everly, I need you to breathe. You have to focus on your breathing, okay? I’m going to keep you safe.” I lean close, touching my nose to hers. “Just promise me you’ll breathe.” I place her palm on my chest. “Feel my breaths. Match them. In…and out…you got this, baby girl.”

Her breath hisses as she nods, her gaze finally zeroing in on my chest, watching it rise and fall with each breath. I give her a beat—two…three—and watch as her tears stream down her face while she desperately tries to draw in breath.

More gunfire explodes outside, men screaming, cursing, getting closer. I’m starting to fucking panic because I need keep her from having a full-blown attack, but I also need to get her the fuck out of here.

“Baby—”

“I’m okay.” She nods frantically. “I’m okay.”

“That’s my girl.” I grab her hand, and we start running, but then Talon’s voice breaks through the radio on my side.

“The bird’s been compromised. Sir, don’t take her there.”

“Fuck!”

“The bird?” Everly stares at me in confusion.

“The chopper,” I clarify, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, my mind in fucking overdrive. I grab the radio. “What about the safe room?”

“Safe room’s clear, sir. We’ll hold ’em off as long as we can. But her get there fast.”

I snake an arm around her waist, and we move through the halls to the back of the villa. A fresh wave of gunfire and shouting erupts, closer this time, and I’m practically dragging her down the stairs, every instinct on high alert.

We reach the hidden door to the safe room, a reinforced bunker beneath the main floor, and I push it open, the hinges groaning as I usher her inside, my heart breaking at the terror in her eyes as she looks at me, her hands clutching my shirt.

“What is this?” she asks.

“Plan B, baby girl.”

I guide her down the narrow stairs, the sound of choppers’ blades whipping the air into a frenzy overhead, their searchlights sweeping the grounds, hunting for us.

I hear the boats hitting the shore, the shouts of the Paladino men as they storm the beach, their voices a mix of Italian and English, barking orders as they advance, their gunfire relentless as my men fight to hold the line.

My hands shake as I check the supply stashes in a corner of the room, canned food, bottled water, a pack of medical supplies, weapons. I grab the inhaler and give it to her, watching as she takes two pumps, inhaling deeply. The relief on her face is palpable, but temporary. Soon, the fear returns, her eyes darting over the room, then at me. “What is this?”

“It’s a safe room. No one will find you here.”

“Tell me you’re staying here with me.”

“Everly—”

“Isaia.” Her mismatched eyes well up with tears, the bravest and most terrified I'd ever seen her, and it fucking kills me. “Tell me you’re staying here with me.”

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