Page 166 of Without a Trace
I backed out slowly. One step at a time.
And I didn’t stop watching my back until I reached the villa.
A scream rang out.
Then glass shattering.
The window blown inward—too fast, too sharp to be anything but deliberate.
And then everything went to hell.
Kane yelled—Zeke was already moving. Rhett’s voice came behind the wall, low and clipped, calling out codes I didn’t understand.
Trace barreled out the door, gun drawn.
“Scarlett,” he barked. “Down.”
I dropped. Hit the deck as something whizzed over my head.
A bullet.
Holy shit.
Trace lunged in front of me, shielded me with his whole body. One arm shot out, pinning me behind him, the other gripping my arm so tight it almost bruised.
“Stay down,” he growled. “I swear to god, if you move—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whispered.
Gunfire echoed off the walls, Zeke’s voice cutting through it all—calm, deadly. “One in the trees. Two at the north edge. I’ve got one.”
I peeked out.
A figure moved through the shadows—dark clothes, masked face. A veiled eye painted in red on their shoulder.
Red Veil.
They’d found us.
I reached for my knife, heart pounding. But Trace shoved me back.
“No,” he snapped. “You don’t touch this. Not yet.”
A shot cracked.
Someone grunted.
“Rhett’s hit!” Kane’s voice held fear.
My hand flew to my mouth. Rhett. No.
Not him. Not now. The thought of him bleeding out somewhere while the world burned—it clawed at my ribs, fast and vicious.
I stood up before Trace could stop me. “Where?”
He caught my wrist. “Don’t.”
“You can’t protect me from everything.”
