Page 270 of Entangled

“We’re in position,” he calls around.

My hand shakes, and I try to remember my two shooting lessons. I remember how to turn the safety off. Aiming is the difficult part. Oh God, what do I even aimat?

Dom steps closer to me again. “As soon as this is over, little librarian, we’re finishing what we started.”

His voice is low and full of heat... but notthatlow. Everyone would be able to hear him. Despite the situation, I shoot him a scandalized look.

“That— Right. Well. We can talk about that in private,” I stammer at the same volume, and Ava’s snicker echoes hollowly through the tunnels.

He glances at me. “You remember rule number three? That one’s going to be useful later.”

Rule number three? My mind scrambles. His rules. What were they? My brain was fogged with him at the time. There was “don’t touch me unless I tell you to” and “address me as ‘sir,’” but what was the third one?

We stop beside a large pile of rubble, and Heather skirts around it a few steps ahead of us. She snorts. “Give her a kiss, then pack the hard on away, Dom. We have shit to do.”

Dom laughs.Laughs. Full-bodied, deep, and gravelly, that laugh paralyzes my panicked heart in my chest. With more casual ease than he should be capable of, Dom’s arm comes around me, and he sweeps me into a low, romantic dip.

Dom dipped me. Domdippedme. Whoisthis person?

My free hand clutches his chest, while my gun slaps up against his shoulder—thankfully, still with the safety on—and his head dips too.

He’s really going to kiss me? Now?

When his lips brush over mine, he murmurs, “We’re surrounded. Stay low and listen. Got it?”

“No!” I hiss, panicked.

“Now!”

Dom drops me on my ass, whipping his rifle up as he steps out from behind the pile of rubble and fires into the darkness. I cover my head with my hands as gunfire bursts in my ears, and I frantically look around. Can he actually see? Or is he just hoping for the best?

I peek my head around the half-shelter of rocky debris.

“Rulethree, Eden,” he roars.

It suddenly hits me. Rule three—stay where I put you.

Alarm pulses through me. I hear dozens of blistering shots slapping the air, one after the next. There are shouts—Ava, Sloane, Heather, Dom... and men, men I don’t recognize. Their feet kick up the dust on the ground, and I can feel it coating my hair, gritting my eyes, and congealing in my nose.

And all I can see are vignettes in flashes of glittering light as flashlights are swung around and kicked haphazardly across the ground. My emotions swing just as wildly.

Flash.

Sloane shoots a man point blank between the eyes, spraying the air with shimmering blood.

Flash.

The Red Zone woman stabs a knife through a Sinner’s wrist, and his gun falls from his hand. The next stab goes through his throat.

Flash.

An automatic gun fires off staccato shots.

Flash.

Dom brings the butt of his rifle down on a man’s face. “Eden, run!”

Flash.

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