Page 146 of Anchor
Her vision blurred, the strobes burning her eyes raw. Beneath the adrenaline, a sharper thought cut through her fear:If Scour was here… where is Vos?
The corpses covering the floor were not the end—only a piece. The real danger was still out there.
Her pulse roared in her ears as she gripped the rail tighter, unable to move, unable to look away from Reid’s back. He had saved her again. But the fire curling in her chest told her the truth. This wasn’t finished until Vos himself was gone.
Reid’s arms shook,the sound of the shots echoing in his ears. His weapon wavered in his grip. His ribs screamed with each breath, and his entire body pleaded with him to collapse, but he held himself upright, shielding Claire with what strength remained.
Seconds later, the door burst open as boots thundered in. Kieran held point, his rifle raised, with Tree Town One fanning out behind him in disciplined formation. Their weapons snapped to targets, eyes sweeping the corners of the room, every angle checked.
Four bodies lay sprawled on the floor. Blood pooled dark across the wood, and the vitals console sparked where the nurse had been thrown against it. At the center lay Scour, Vos’s number one, his shadow. His assassin lay dead at Reid’s feet.
“Clear!” Kieran barked, his voice cutting through the alarms.
Operators moved quickly, checking pulses, securing weapons, and confirming what was already evident. There were no survivors. One man crouched, rolling Scour’s head to verify the assassin was gone.
Kieran stepped forward, his face grim and his weapon still raised. “Reid… talk to me.”
Reid’s mouth was dry. His eyes moved past Kieran, drawn once more to the body on the floor. For years, Scour had been the hidden blade in Vos’s hand, the name whispered in dossiers and intercepts. Now he was nothing more than an empty stare under the strobe lights. Reid had ended him with two perfect shots, and by all accounts, it should have felt like victory.
Instead, a jagged thought cut through him with merciless clarity. If Scour was here, then where was Vos?
His gaze shifted to Claire, pale against the bed, her hand still pressed protectively to her stomach. Relief and terror crashed against each other in his chest. He had ended the assassination team. But the mastermind was still out there, watching and waiting.
That realization dragged at him until his weapon dipped slightly in his hands. His legs trembled under the burden of exhaustion and the knowledge that this was not over. Reid was not sure whether he had ended something or if he had only opened the door to what came next.
Silence settled over the suite, broken only by the alarms and a single voice. Claire’s. “Reid…” Her voice was faint, almost lost.
He turned and saw her curled in on herself, blood spilling in a dark rush over her thighs. His chest seemed to split open at the sight. “No… no, no… Claire…” The words came out raw, barely more than a choked whisper.
He dropped to his knees beside her, pain exploding through his side and leg, but he ignored it. His arms went around her instantly, gathering her against him, his hands already slick with her blood. “Help is coming.” He held her close as if he could keep her from slipping away. “You hold on to me.”
Her eyelids fluttered, struggling to stay open, fighting to remain present. Her breaths came, shallow and broken.
Reid pressed his comm, his voice low but shaking as he forced the words out. “Tuck. Hemorrhage. Rehab Suite. Now.”
He turned back to her, cupping her face in both hands, pressing his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I’ve never loved anyone more. Stay with me. Please. For me. For our baby.”
Her fingers curled weakly into his shirt, a desperate anchor holding her to him.
“Stay. Please stay.”
The suite filled suddenly with the movement of medical personnel, voices crisp and commanding, equipment snapping into place. But Reid didn’t move. He didn’t look away from her. Not until Tuck arrived, shoving him gently but firmly aside to take over.
FORTY-EIGHT
EMERGENCY SURGICAL BAY – 2219 HOURS
The hallway reeked of antiseptic and adrenaline, every breath heavy with urgency. They did not waste a second.
“She’s ruptured,” Tuck’s forearms were already red to the elbows, “uncontrolled hemorrhage. Total previa, afullplacental abruption.”
Rowan Vale met his eyes across the table, his tone clipped and resolute. “I’m going vertical. There isn’t time for transverse.”
“Agreed.” Tuck pivoted without pause. “God, her blood’s the consistency of water. She’s going into DIC. She isn’t clotting. Pat, is blood en route?”
Dr. Patrick Hedges answered immediately, “Hanging O-neg now. Platelets will be here in five.” He leaned over her, pressing her arm before pulling away. “Claire, it’s Hedges. You’re in good hands. Keep fighting.”
Her eyes fluttered open, unseeing, her voice thin. “I need Reid…”
