Page 65 of Danger Close
Bateman moved to cover.Dev called over the radio, “Medic to the basement now.We have the package.”
Ricky slumped forward, whispering, “The kids?”
Ezra pressed a hand to his cheek.“Safe.They’re safe.”
Ricky’s eyes fluttered.“Good.Don’t let me die, Ez.”
Ezra’s grip tightened.“Don’t you fucking dare.”
Above them, the gunfire slowed.
Bravo cleared the last room.
The farmhouse was theirs.
But as Ezra crouched in the shadows, holding Ricky’s battered body close, he knew this wasn’t the end.
It was just the beginning.
And whoever had done this?
Had no idea what storm was now coming for them.
****
Somewhere between painand peace, between breath and silence.The world came in flashes—voices Ricky knew, faces he couldn’t quite hold on to, a light too bright behind his eyelids, and then darkness again.
“...still no change?”
A voice—Bateman’s?Maybe Blake’s.Everything sounded like it was underwater, the baseline of their concern vibrating in his bones.He didn’t have the strength to open his eyes, to tell them he was trying.
Time spun...
Another voice now.Dale, maybe?“Marsh’s vitals are holding, but barely.Infection’s not backing off.They’re worried about sepsis.Damage from the blast was worse than they thought.”
Time spun...
The world came in fragments.Sound before sight.Light before clarity.
“...infection’s bad,” someone was saying.“Complications from the amputation.Internal damage.It’s not just the leg.”
A low voice—Bateman’s, maybe—gritty and tired.“Guy’s already taken more hits than a fucking war movie.”
Footsteps.The rustle of a chair shifting.And then silence, like everyone had run out of things to say.
Ricky tried to move, but the pain anchored him deep.His shoulder throbbed, his body felt like concrete.Still, his mind spun, reaching for something—someone.
Time spun...
Sophia.Ezra.Marsh.
Where—?
Then he heard it.A voice low and warm.His voice.
Ezra.
“...and then he told Uncle Dev he’d sleep outside with the raccoons before wearing anything with sequins.And Ricky—he just rolled his eyes and muttered something about ‘fashion fascism.’I swear, baby girl, your uncles are ridiculous.”
