Page 64 of Knot Unwanted: Part Two

We advance using the hangar’s equipment as cover, moving from shadow to shadow. Twenty yards away now. Fifteen.

But luck isn’t with us. One of Heath’s security personnel scans the hangar more thoroughly than his colleagues. His hand suddenly moves to his earpiece.

Everything accelerates. The security team pivots, weapons rising. Riordan signals, and Ellis’ shot cracks through the hangar from his sniper position, dropping the alert guard in a split second that feels like it stills the air.

“Contact!” Connor shouts, abandoning stealth.

Heath’s head snaps up, eyes narrowing as she processes the threat. For a moment, genuine surprise registers before her expression hardens into something calculating.

“Take cover!” Stone barks, pulling me behind a heavy equipment cabinet as the remaining security personnel open fire.

The Ashgraves return fire with an almost terrifying ease. Each shot makes me want to tremble, to hide away, but I push those instincts down. This is for Hailey. As I lift my gun and point, trying to find an opening, my heart stops as a bullet pings off the metal cabinet Jax is hiding behind. He moves with surprising awareness, laying down covering fire before rolling to a better position behind a tool chest.

“Heath’s making for the exit,” Connor calls out, ducking as bullets ping off the metal shelving near his head.

I risk a glance around our cover. Heath is indeed backing toward the hangar doors, one security guard shielding her while the others exchange fire with us.

“We can’t let her leave,” I say to Stone, the desperation in my voice bleeding through. “She knows where Hailey is.”

Stone’s eyes meet mine, understanding deep in their pits. “Stay in my shadow. Move only when I move.” Not a request.

He signals to Jax, who acknowledges with a sharp nod. They fall into some innate pattern developed through years of pack dynamics.

Jax breaks from cover long enough to fire three precise shots, forcing one of Heath’s guards to retreat. The momentary advantage creates a gap in their defensive pattern.

“Now,” Stone says, moving laterally along our cover toward the next position—a heavy tool cabinet closer to Heath’s position.

I follow exactly in his footsteps, keeping my profile as small as possible. We use the firefight as a distraction, working our way along the edge of the hangar while the Ashgraves keep Heath’s men busy from the front.

Through gaps between equipment, I catch glimpses of Heath. She’s huddled behind a forklift, speaking urgently into a phone.

Declan notices our movement and adjusts his position to provide additional cover. “Ellis,” he says into his comm, “status on external?”

After a few seconds, he glances over at us. “Two more guards at the aircraft,” he says. “Cockpit active, pre-flight in progress.”

We’re running out of time.

“I need to get closer,” Jax says quietly from his position several yards away.

Stone nods, then glances at me. “This is where you stay.”

“Like hell.”

A flash of something—respect, pain, conflict—crosses his face before he tightens his jaw. “Then do exactly as I say.” His jaw tightens again, clearly struggling with the instinct to keep me safe. And I know this. But…we’ve only got one shot at this. “Stay behind cover, Finn.”

I confirm with a tight nod.

Stone breaks from cover, firing twice before diving behind another cabinet. Heath’s security team immediately focuses on him, bullets ricocheting off metal where he was standing seconds ago.

I hold my position as instructed, watching as the Ashgraves adapt to Stone’s movements. Riordan and Connor increasepressure from their positions while Declan works his way around shipping crates. To my right, Jax uses the distraction to advance closer to where Heath is hiding.

One of Heath’s security guards falls to Connor’s shot. Another clutches a wounded arm as he scrambles behind a stack of crates. The third remains crouched beside Heath, who has reached a tall storage rack near the hangar doors. I can see the calculation in her eyes as she surveys the open tarmac between her and the waiting plane. But it’s too exposed for a straight run.

That’s when I see it—a pathway through the equipment that would bring me within feet of her position. An angle none of the others have.

I move without conscious thought, slipping from my position toward a row of metal barrels. Stone notices immediately, his eyes widening in alarm, but he’s pinned down by gunfire.

“Finn!” he hisses, but I’m already committed.

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