Page 41 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
The metallic scrape of weapons against gear echoes closer. My vision sharpens, peripheral awareness expanding. What blindsides me isn't the threat—it's my reaction. The thought of these men reaching Vanessa triggers something raw, protective, possessive.
"Fire escape. Now." I wrap my fingers around her upper arm, steering her toward the far window while scanning for threats. Every muscle shifts into combat mode, brain calculating angles, distances, cover points.
"They'll have someone watching the alley," she whispers, keeping pace with my rapid steps. Her breathing remains controlled despite the obvious danger.
"Counting on it." My hand slides to the small of her back, guiding her forward. The warmth of her body registers through her thin shirt.
"You've done this before." Not a question. Her voice holds something between fear and fascination as we move.
"Once or twice."
"Probably the understatement of the century," she mutters.
"You have a gun?" I need to assess our options while we're still mobile.
Her eyes widen. "No. I don't... I've never even held one. Maya always said violence should be a last resort."
"Stay behind me. Do exactly what I say." The first boot hits the door before we reach the window.
"When I move, you follow exactly three steps behind me."
"Why three?" she asks while gripping her bag strap tighter.
"Standard tactical distance. Harder to hit both targets with one burst."
"That's... oddly comforting," she whispers, but her lips quirk up despite the situation. "Bossy when you're playing hero." She grips her bag strap tighter, knuckles turning white.
"Not playing." Wood splinters explode inward as a steel-toed boot connects with the lock. "And it's not bossy if it keeps you alive."
Training takes over. I shove Vanessa behind a concrete column, pivoting with my weapon raised, breathing steady.
"Stay low," I order while scanning for targets. "When I say move, run for the fire escape. Don't stop, don't look back."
"What about you?" Her dark eyes search mine, genuine concern flashing despite her own danger.
"Right behind you." Something warm spreads through my chest at her worry.
"Don't do anything stupidly heroic." Her hands shake, but resolve takes over her face. "I hate clichés, and dying for someone is the worst one."
"Nothing about me is a cliché, bunny."
The first man barrels through the doorway, gear black, semi-automatic raised. I put a single round through his forehead before he completes his entry. The gunshot thunders in the enclosed space, echo bouncing off concrete walls. He drops without another step.
Vanessa flinches at the sound, back pressed against concrete. Shock flashes across her face before she forces it away, squaring her shoulders. But the slight shake in her hands tellsme something else. She's scared, yes, but she's also watching me with dark fascination. Her pupils dilate slightly.
"You okay?" My voice comes out rougher than intended.
"Peachy," she breathes, but her eyes stay locked on my face with an intensity that heats my blood. There's something hungry in that look.
Glass shatters behind us, shards exploding across the hardwood floor. A second man rappels through the window, cutting off our escape route.
"Move!" I bark, firing twice while steering Vanessa toward the kitchen island. The shots echo like thunder. The first catches the rappelling man in the shoulder, spinning him mid-air. The second punches through his throat, blood spraying across the wall where her projection displays.
"Two down." I eject the spent magazine, scanning for the next threat.
"How can you be so calm?" Vanessa whispers, pressing close to my back while we crouch behind the island. The scent of her shampoo cuts through the acrid smell from the gunshots.
"Practice." I slide in a fresh magazine with mechanical precision.
