Page 98 of Guarded from Havoc

I’m not strong right now, huddled on the ground, too terrified to move.

Too terrified to even look.

The sounds of soft scuffling and muffled grunts come towards me.

A gritted, “Don’t fucking move. Or I can’t promise I won’t kill you.”

A low moan.

A broken sob.

Then a mournful, wavering, “I don’t understand. I just want to go home.”

And then, silence.

As I’m trying to pry my face from my knees, a gentle hand touches my shoulder. “Tate. It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s over.”

Erik!

Is he okay?

How can I be hiding like a coward when I don’t even know if he’s hurt?

My head jerks up. Erik’s worried gaze meets mine.

No. Not just worried. Scared. For me.

“Oh, Tate, baby,” he croons as he draws me into his arms. “I’m so sorry. You’re safe. He can’t hurt you. Look. He’s tied up. See?”

Erik turns me slightly so I can see the man restrained on the ground. The man’s wrists and ankles are zip tied together, and there’s a strip of red-stained fabric wrapped around his forearm.

I guess I’m relieved the man isn’t dead. Sort of.

But I’m more concerned about Erik. “Are you hurt?” I demand, pulling back so I can inspect him. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t move. I should have been helping. Something. Are you okay? Did he shoot you?”

“I’m okay. He didn’t shoot me. Look.” Erik leans back and holds his arms out for a second before embracing me again. “I had to shoot his arm to make him drop the gun. Then I fired again as a warning. But he’ll be okay.” His eyes blaze with anger. “Even though he got off easy considering what he did.”

Though I don’t see any visible blood on Erik, I pat him all over, checking. Just to be sure.

But thank God, he reallyisokay.

Erik hugs me to him with one arm while he pulls out his phone with the other. Then he quickly calls Blade and Arrow and 911, in that order. Once he hangs up, he says, “Everyone’s coming. Niall and Xavier, plus the police and an ambulance.”

“You’re sure you’re okay?” I ask, even though the proof is right in front of me.

“I’m okay. But Tate. Are you?” As he brushes away the dampness from my cheeks, his face collapses. “Shit, Tate. I’m so fucking sorry. I swore to protect you. Keep you safe. And I failed you again.”

“No, you didn’t.” I cup his jaw and hold his gaze, suddenly understandingthisis the time he needs my strength. Not to protect him from a crazed gunman, though I wish I could. But to reassure him. Make sure he knows he’snota failure.

“You didn’t fail me,” I continue, firming my tone. “You protected me. Again.”

“But you could have been shot.”

“Only because I was being stupid and not listening to you. You had me behind you. Shielding me. The only person who would have been hurt was—” My voice cracks. “You, Erik. You risked your life to protect me.”

“But it shouldn’t have?—”

“Erik. You said the hospital records gave him a clean bill of health. There was no way to know. No way to anticipate. And you kept me safe. You kept both of us safe.”

---