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“Go.” Gregorio’s voice was rough with pain but still carried that note of command.
“No fucking way am I leaving you.”
“Goddamn it, Sasha. Fucking go. I mean it.”
Stubbornly, she shook her head.You never leave your partner. “Get off your ass and give me some help.”
“I’m warning you.”
“Yeah?” she demanded. “Fucking take it out on me later, when we make it out of here.”
Her pulse slamming against her ribs, she crouched to curl her arm under him, hauling him upright with strength born of desperation.
No time for panic. No room for fear.
Another shot rang out, missing them by inches, and her ears rang, shattering her hearing.
A counter shot came from near the fence.
Hawkeye.
Thank God.
Backup had bought them a short reprieve, thirty seconds, if they were lucky.
Gregorio stumbled forward, but he was too heavy, his usually powerful body refusing to fully cooperate. Blood continued to seep between her fingers where she tried to support him.
Too much blood. Far too much.
She blinked back tears.
She didn’t have time to think, only to act.
A vehicle roared up the street—headlights cutting through the darkness, tires screaming as they fought for purchase against the pavement.
A door flew open with enough force to rock the entire vehicle.
A familiar voice cut through the chaos—sharp, authoritative. “Get in!”
Sasha didn’t hesitate, didn’t question the salvation being offered.
She heaved Gregorio toward the SUV, raw terror lending her strength she shouldn’t have possessed. Gregorio barely managed to drag himself inside before Sasha threw herself in after him, her body instinctively curling around his as if she could shield him from further harm.
The door slammed shut behind them with brutal finality.
The moment the SUV accelerated away, bullets ripped through the night.
Sasha barely had time to process their escape before Gregorio’s weight slumped more heavily against her.
Her hands, slick with his blood, pressed desperately into his side, trying to stem the flow.
His eyes met hers—slightly dazed but still alert, still aware. Still fighting.
“Sasha…” His voice was rough, carrying something too raw, too broken. As if he needed to tell her something vital while he still could.
“Shh. Save your breath.” Fighting against the tears, she pressed harder against the wound, as if she could keep him anchored to this world through sheer force of will. “I’ve got you.”
She wasn’t sure if she meant it as a promise—or a desperate prayer to whatever gods might be listening.