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A sob rose in her throat, swallowed by the pounding in her ears. The world tilted again, her vision tunneling. Ezra. Elijah. She saw their faces, small hands reaching for her, heard the echo of their laughter.
I can't leave them. I can't die here.
But her body was already giving out, lightheaded, limbs heavy, pain surging with every heartbeat. Her hand slipped from her arm, fingers curling weakly in the dust.
Sirens wailed in the distance, but they sounded miles away. A voice shouted her name, Piper’s, maybe, but it barely registered.
Her sweet children. They’d lose her the same way she lost their father without warning, without goodbye.
Then her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Dagger.
He knew.
He would be coming.
God, she needed him.
Dagger feltthe phone slip in his damp grip, his pulse thundering. Quinn’s name flashed on the screen, but the callnever connected, just rang until it went to voicemail. His lungs felt constricted, like someone was pressing an iron bar against his chest.
He tried one more time, and again, nothing.
His voice was unsteady when he turned to Tex. “She’s not picking up.”
Tex’s phone was at his own ear, worry etching lines into his otherwise composed features. “The team at the site just confirmed. She’s at the hospital. She took a round.”
Dagger didn’t remember racing outside, but there he was, sprinting across the cracked pavement, ignoring the curious looks from Marine guards at the entrance. His heart hammered so violently he half expected it to burst out of his ribcage. A primal urgency seized him. Quinn was hurt, no,shot, and an image of her bleeding out, alone, tore at his sanity.
By the time he reached the SUV, Easy was already in the driver’s seat, ready to go. The rest of the team scrambled into vehicles behind them. Dagger wrenched open the passenger door and practically dove inside, slamming it shut.
“Go,” he barked, the word coming out raw, half order, half plea.
The ride blurred around him. One second, they were pulling out of the lot, and the next, they were weaving through the congested Caracas traffic. He barely heard the honking horns, the screech of tires, or the curses thrown their way. Cold sweat trickled down his neck, but all he could think wasShe’s hurt. She’s hurt and I wasn’t there.
It triggered something deep, a protective rage that simmered, the kind of anger that made his vision narrow and his blood pound loud in his ears. He wasn’t just a SEAL in that moment. He was a man who had lost too much already. The memory of Brian ripped through him. No. Not again. He couldn’t lose her, too. He refused.
The words Quinn had spoken earlier came back to him, unbidden:I always thought you were trouble, handsome, handsome trouble.At the time, it had been a jest, a teasing little acknowledgment that maybe they werefinallygetting somewhere. Something in her tone had softened around the edges, just for a moment. He had heard it, the warmth, the undercurrent of humor that was so uniquelyher. He’d been desperate for that spark to return, for the hurt between them to fade, even if it took time. Now, that chance felt perilously close to slipping through his fingers. He’d lost his brother to this place. He wasn’t going to lose her, too. Not to incompetence. Not to chaos. Not to fate. SEALs didn’t lose. They took ground, held the line. But this wasn’t about mission. This was personal. This was war and his battlefield was her heart.
They reached the hospital in record time, the SUV skidding to a halt with a squeal of tires. Before the vehicle was fully stopped, Dagger was ripping open the door. Tex hollered, “Wait—” but Dagger was already gone, boots pounding on the asphalt.
He vaulted the curb, ignoring the startled yelp of a nurse hurrying inside. A lethal, singular focus consumed him.Find Quinn. Make sure she’s safe.
The glass doors to the emergency entrance slid open too slowly for him, and he nearly collided with them in his haste. The sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway came into abrupt focus, stretchers, white-coated staff, the smell of antiseptic, and the stale undertone of fear that always clung to hospitals. He hadn’t been this close to panic since that day two years ago, when he’d lost Brian.
Everything blurred, becoming the memory outside the prison where he’d first heard the words,Cole didn’t make it.That same helpless fury, the same sense of failure, threatened to drown him now.
Somewhere behind him, Tex’s voice rose, urgent. “Dagger, stop! You’ll?—”
He barely registered the words. There was no stopping. Every second counted.
He rounded a corner and spotted Langford, standing near a nurse’s station. The man’s expression was pinched, his lips forming words, but Dagger didn’t care what he was saying. Something in his posture sent Dagger’s rage skyrocketing, as if Langford’s presence alone was enough to confirm his conviction that this man wasn’t good enough to provide the kind of security she needed. He’d left Quinn vulnerable. Langford’s men hadn’t done their damn job.
He lunged forward, fists clenching, the edges of his vision tinting red. Langford’s eyes widened, and he lifted his hands as though to placate or defend himself. “She’s all right?—”
No. Not good enough. Not after what she’d been through. Not when Dagger had come so close to losing her. There was a savage, merciless part of him that demanded retribution, that demanded blood.
But just before he could drive his fist into Langford’s face, two massive impacts slammed into him from behind. Bondo and Easy tackled him, knocking the wind out of his lungs.