Page 29 of Fired at the Heart

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Vince’s head snaps up, his expression shifting from lecherous to alert in an instant. “What was that?”

Another pop, closer this time. Then several in rapid succession.

The nearest guard’s radio crackles to life. “Security breach in sector three. Multiple hostiles. Request backup immediately.”

Vince stiffens as understanding dawns.

“Don’t,” Raphael warns.

But Vince doesn’t listen as he turns toward his guards, mouth opening to shout orders.

Everything happens in a fluid series of movements honed by years of practice. Raphael’s hand slides down my thigh, fingers wrapping around the grip of my pistol and drawing it from the holster. At the same time, I reach into his jacket, extracting the Glock from his shoulder holster in one practiced motion.

We move in perfect synchronization, muscle memory from countless operations together overriding the years of separation and hurt. Raphael pivots right, my gun already extending toward the guard stationed at the opposite end of the room. I spin left, Raphael’s weapon heavier than mine but familiar in my grip as I aim at the guard nearest the door.

Two shots crack the air in rapid succession, one from Raphael’s hand, one from mine. The guard to my left drops, a neat hole appearing in the center of his forehead as a spray of blood and tissue erupts behind him to paint the wall.

Raphael’s target drops a beat later, clutching his chest as blood soaks his shirt.

Adrenaline hits like lightning. I fire again, Raphael’s Glock bucking in my grip, and another guard crumples in a burst of red. It’s not my weapon—heavier, more recoil—but my body remembers how to adjust, how to fight beside him.

My finger moves instinctively, each shot clean. Five years vanish in gunfire, and we’re back where we began. Just Raphael and me, two halves of the same predator.

In the heartbeats between shots, Vince runs for the service door at the back of the room, using his falling guards as cover. Raphael shifts his aim long enough to wing him in the leg, and Vince screams as the bullet tears through his calf muscle, slowing him down.

The last guard still fumbles with his weapon as I squeeze the trigger again. He jerks backward as my bullet finds his shoulder with a disabling shot rather than a kill. He drops his weapon, clutching the wound as he slides down the wall.

More gunfire erupts outside the room as our team engages the club’s security forces. The captive Omegas press themselves against the walls, some dropping to the floor in defensive postures, others frozen in shock.

“Stay down!” I gesture with my free hand. “Help is coming!”

Understanding flickers across some of their faces, confusion and fear on others. The auburn-haired woman I spoke with earlier herds the others toward the far corner of the room, away from the line of fire.

Raphael moves toward the guard I wounded, kicking his weapon away before pressing the barrel of my pistol to his forehead. “How many more guards are in the service hall?”

The man spits blood, defiant even with a bullet in his shoulder. “Fuck you.”

Raphael shifts his aim and fires. The guard’s kneecap explodes in a spray of bone and tissue, and his scream echoes off the walls, high and agonized.

God, I love that man.

“Let’s try again.” Raphael points the weapon at his other kneecap. “How many guards?”

“Eight!” the man gasps, his breath shallow, face drained of color as he clutches his wound. “Eight on this floor. More upstairs.”

Raphael puts a bullet in the man’s head, and I shiver at the clinical efficiency of it. This Alpha was made for violence, just like me.

More gunfire sounds from the corridor outside, closer now, our teams advancing, clearing the club room by room.

I turn toward our target, but he managed to crawl his way out of the room, leaving a trail of blood across the polished floor. “Dammit. Vince is on the move.”

Raphael pauses beside the first guard he shot, whose chest still rises and falls in shallow, wet gasps. Without hesitation, he puts another bullet in the man’s head, ensuring he won’t be a threat at our backs.

“Go.” He gestures toward Vince. “I’ll secure the room and signal the extraction team for the Omegas.”

I don’t wait for further instruction, already in pursuit of Vince.

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