Page 54 of Her Remarkable Protector

Of course it won’t. My house is built to withstand attacks like this. Nothing budges. No windows break, no doors cave. It’s designed to keep threats out, not to let someone in. And now that strength is working against me.

“Shit,” I mutter under my breath as I gather the CBRN masks Eric has handed me. Then Huxley’s words trigger something in my brain. Red Mark is equipped for emergencies like this. Heavy-duty emergencies. I spin on my heel and head for the utility room, grabbing tools I may need—cutters, saws, whatever I can find.

“Chase, the fire brigade is en route,” Hux says. “They know there’s a baby inside. They’re bringing gear. But you need to get here. Fast.”

I’m already moving.

“The roof!” I snap. “Hux, get to the roof. South-east corner, right above the kitchen. There’s a spot—it’s reinforced, but you can hack through it if you hit the right place.”

“Copy that. I’m heading there now.”

I sprint toward my car.

Honor. Laramie. Hold on. I’m coming.

21

CHASE

I floor it, the tires screaming against the pavement. Nothing else matters—just getting there. I try Honor again, my hand gripping the phone so tightly my knuckles ache.

“Come on! Pick up! Pick up!” My voice cracks as I shout into the empty line. When it cuts to voicemail again, I let out a roar of frustration, slamming my hand against the steering wheel. “Fuuuck!”

I don’t even notice the speedometer creeping higher. Fire and rescue are on the way, but my house isn’t exactly right off the main road. I can’t wait for them. Right now, my only ally is Hux. And even that feels like a thread stretched too thin.

When I arrive, the scene hits me like a punch to the face. My house—a fortress, a place meant to protect—is a battlefield. Smoke seeps from the vents like the building itself is suffocating. Hux’s four-wheel drive is smashed against the front door, its hood crumpled like paper. He tried to ram his way in, as he said. Desperation has teeth, and it’s already sunk into him.

I spot him on the roof, his broad frame swinging an axe with relentless force against the south-east corner, just as I’d instructed. Each swing sends shards of roofing flying, but even from here, I can see it’s not enough.

“Climb over my truck!” Hux yells, telling me how the hell he got up there with no ladder.

I grab the heavy-duty cutting saw from the back of my truck—thank God for Red Mark’s prep—and haul myself up from the roof of his GMC with everything else I can carry. My lungs already burning from the faint smoke curling into the open air.

“Move!” I yell to Hux, revving the saw. Sparks fly as the blade tears into the reinforced material, grinding against steel. Hux picks up the axe again, attacking the weakened section in rhythm with me. Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes, but I don’t stop. I can’t. Not while they’re inside.

The roof starts to give. A groan of protest, then a crack. I toss the saw aside and grab the loosened sheet with both hands, pulling with everything I have. What good is rolling tires in the gym every damn morning if I can’t save Honor and Laramie now? My arms burn, my shoulders scream, but the sheet shifts, just barely. I growl, putting every ounce of rage, fear, and adrenaline into one final pull.

It gives.

The section of roofing tears free, leaving a gap just wide enough. Hux and I lock eyes, his face streaked with soot and disbelief. Even he seems shocked I managed to rip through that much.

“Put this on!” I throw a mask at him, strapping my own into place as we climb into the opening. Smoke billows around us, thick and choking, but I don’t hesitate. I yank my mask off briefly, shouting into the chaos. “Honor!”

No answer.

We trudge through the smoke-filled house, my heartbeat hammering so hard it drowns out everything else. The air is unrelenting, clinging to my skin, stinging my eyes even behind the mask. Every corner we turn, every room we check, she’s not there.

The living room? Empty.

The kitchen? Nothing.

My chest tightens, fear breaching the edges of my control.

“Honor!” I bellow, my voice raw. “Answer me, damn it!”

I pause, my mind racing, replaying every conversation, every detail I’ve told her about the house. Then it hits me like a bolt of clarity. The wellness room. She knows it’s there. She’s smart—she would go where the air might still be clean.

“I know where they are!” I shout to Hux, already running toward the far hall. My loafers pound against the floor, each step fueled by desperate hope. “Smart girl. Smart girl,” I mutter to myself, clinging to the thought. She has to be there. She has to.

---