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“Please," she said, flashing a rare grin. “We’re getting somewhere.” He would move the sun and moon for her. This was an easy request.
The hallway outside the server room was empty except for the soft whisper of drones. He passed through the main security doors, thinking about Grace digging deeper into the backend, tracing the bounced access logs again was like watching poetry in motion.
He entered the breakroom and brewed the tea for both of them, grabbed up the protein bars, and turned. A mechanical hiss echoed down the corridor, followed by a heavy clang.
Fuck. Heavy security doors leading to their office just engaged, the magnetic lock bolted with a loud snap. The protein bars hit the floor. Nash sprinted, adrenaline spiking focus as tight as a close shave. He slammed his shoulder into the door.
Maybe he could get there another way. Pivoting, he backtracked toward the secondary corridor, farther, but still leading to their glass-walled office.
Drones descended from the ceiling, their rotors slicing the air, tasers crackling. Predatory.
He lifted his arm to protect his face, gritting his teeth as shocks jolted through his body. His skin burned, but he kept moving. Getting to Grace was his only thought.
The office door loomed ahead. Through the glass, he saw her pinned behind an overturned chair, arms up, protecting her head, surrounded by three sleek black drones circling like hornets.
Weapon already drawn, Nash moved fast. “Grace, cover your eyes!” he barked.
Without waiting, he smashed the butt of his Glock into the glass. It exploded inward, pain barely registering. He stepped through the shattered open-door frame, boots crunching over glass.
A drone descended, sleek, fast, precise. Its taser prongs raked across his collarbone just below his throat, searing the skin. He grunted but kept moving, fire tearing down his arm.
They were weaponized. They were targeting both of them.
“Grace!” he shouted again, voice raw. He grabbed his leather jacket from the stand, swinging it hard.Crack, he swatted one drone across the room. It spiraled, sparked, crashed.
Another peeled toward him. Another swing,down.The last drone recalibrated, darting in low. Nash dove, rolling through the charge, sliding across the glass-scattered floor toward Grace, his body shielding hers.
The drone fired. A sharp sizzle of electricity split the air. It hit his shoulder, pain exploding down his side, but he didn’t stop. Didn’t think. Justprotected.
He rolled once more, crushing the drone under his boot with a metallic crunch. Sparks guttered out.
Silence.
He grabbed Grace, gathering her into his arms hard enough to feel her ribs press against his chest, relief crashing through him, flooding every nerve. “Hey.Ya Allah, I’ve got you,” he rasped, voice rough and steady. “I’m here.” Her fingers clutched his shirt, white-knuckled, unconscious.
Flashbacking, she wasn’t looking at him. He knew what that looked like, knew what it felt like. Nash lowered his forehead against hers, grounding her. Breathing for both of them.
“You’re safe. It’s over. I’ve got you.”
She blinked. Twice. Her breath shuddered against his neck. Then, her whisper, raw, but unbreakable. “Someone just declared war.”
CHAPTERSEVEN
Grace stayed curledagainst Nash’s chest, her fingers twisted in his shirt, the beat of his heart thundering against her palm like it was trying to get inside her. The scent of ozone and scorched metal filled the air, thick and choking, mixing with the lingering sharpness of blood and adrenaline that hadn’t yet faded from her own system.
The hallway outside their wrecked office looked like a war zone, shards of glass scattered across the tile, black scorch marks arcing up the walls, the broken carcasses of drones still twitching and sparking like insects caught mid-death.
She knew, without needing to think, that if Nash hadn’t gotten to her in time, if he hadn’t smashed through the door without hesitation, shielded her with his body without a second thought, she wouldn’t be breathing right now.
The memory of his voice, shouting her name, breaking through the frozen lock that had held her captive in the past, still reverberated through her chest.
He had torn himself open for her.
Not just physically.
She felt the blood, wet against her sleeve where he pressed her closer, his body vibrating with tension and pain, his arm braced around her ribs like he could still ward off an attack that was already over.
She hadn't even realized she was trembling until he shifted his stance, adjusting his weight, his hands tightening against her as if he could feel the quake running through her bones.