Page 14 of Blade (Spartan Watchmen MC #5)

L ily checked the tablet screen for the hundredth time. Still no alerts from the perimeter sensors. Still no message from Blade.

The safe room felt smaller with each passing hour. The walls closer. The air thicker. She'd tried coloring to distract herself, but the cheerful images in the book seemed absurd given the circumstances. Tim was being tortured. Blade was in danger. And she was trapped in a metal box, waiting.

Useless. Helpless. Again.

She paced the small space, five steps one way, five steps back. Mr. Flopsy watched from the cot, his button eyes offering no comfort now.

Three hours had passed since Blade left. Three hours of silence broken only by her own breathing, the cats purring and the occasional hum of the ventilation system.

He's fine, she told herself. He knows what he's doing. He'll be back soon.

But another voice, darker and more persistent, whispered other possibilities. What if he's hurt? What if he's dead? What if he never comes back?

The thought made her stomach clench painfully. She'd known him only from a few playdates at The Citadel and being together the last three days, yet the idea of never seeing him again was unbearable. How had that happened? How had he become so important so quickly?

Trauma bonding, she reminded herself. Not real feelings. Just a survival mechanism. Like a person trapped in a fire falling for the firefighter who rescued her or a patient falling for his nurse.

But it didn't feel like survival. It felt like... something else. Something that terrified her more than any physical threat.

She checked the tablet again. Still nothing.

With a frustrated sigh, she sat on the cot and buried her face in her hands. She hated this. Hated being the one left behind. Hated being the cause of so much pain and danger.

Tim's broken body flashed in her mind, an imagined horror based on Blade's grim description. Three fingers missing. Tortured for helping her escape. And for what? So she could hide in a safe room while others fought her battles?

No.

That wasn't fair. She hadn't asked for any of this. Hadn't asked to be blackmailed, to be hunted, to be protected. But here she was all the same.

A sudden beep from the tablet jolted her upright. An alert from the perimeter sensors. Someone was approaching the cabin.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as she grabbed the tablet, fingers trembling as she accessed the security feed. The camera showed a dark SUV moving slowly up the dirt road leading to the cabin. Not Blade's truck. Someone else.

Please be Rampage, she thought desperately. Or Irish. Or anyone from the club.

But as the vehicle drew closer, she could see it wasn't a club member. The driver was a stranger. A lean, weathered man with military-short hair and sunglasses despite the fading daylight. He drove with purpose, scanning the surroundings methodically. Could he be another member of The Watchmen? His military bearing suggested he could be. A chill ran up her spine as she watched him. He was sinister. Cold. No, she knew in her gut he wasn’t in the MC.

He was a hunter. Looking for her.

Lily's blood ran cold. How had they found the cabin? Blade had been so certain it was secure, that no one outside the inner circle knew its location.

Unless the mole had revealed it before Blade and Savage got to him.

The SUV stopped a hundred yards from the cabin. The man got out, surveying the area with practiced precision. He didn't approach immediately, instead reaching back into the vehicle for what appeared to be a rifle with a scope.

Oh God. He's going to set up a position. Wait for Blade to return.

She fumbled for the satellite phone, hands shaking as she dialed Blade's number. It rang once, twice, three times. No answer.

Damn it!

She tried Savage next. Same result.

Think, Lily. Think.

She set down the phone and moved to the weapons rack built into the safe room wall. Blade had shown her where everything was, how to access it. Had made sure she knew how to use every weapon in the room.

"Just in case," he'd said. "Though I hope to hell it never comes to that."

Well, it had come to that. She was on her own, with an unknown assailant preparing to ambush Blade when he returned.

She selected a rifle similar to the one her father had taught her to use a Remington 700 with a scope. Checked that it was loaded. Grabbed extra ammunition. Then moved to the small gun safe and punched in the code Blade had shown her.

Inside was his backup handgun and a tactical vest. She strapped on the vest, which hung loose on her smaller frame, and secured the Glock in a holster.

What now?

She couldn't just sit here and wait. Not when Blade was heading into an ambush. Not when she had the means to warn him, to maybe even help.

But leaving the safe room meant exposing herself to danger. Meant going against Blade's explicit instructions.

"Don't open the door for anyone but me."

She was still debating when the tablet beeped again, another alert from the perimeter sensors. A second vehicle approached. Her heart leapt with hope. Blade?

But no. Another SUV, this one larger, with darkened windows. It pulled up behind the first, and four men got out. All armed. All scanning the cabin with predatory intent.

Five against one when Blade returned. Those weren't odds she liked.

Decision made, Lily moved to the safe room door. If she could get to a vantage point with the rifle before they surrounded the cabin, she might be able to even the odds a bit. At the very least, she could try to warn Blade somehow.

She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. Her father's voice echoed in her memory. "Fear is natural, baby girl. But you can't let it paralyze you. Feel it, acknowledge it, then set it aside and do what needs to be done."

"Okay, Dad," she whispered. "Here goes nothing."

She unlocked the safe room door and eased it open, listening intently. The cabin was silent. She slipped out, rifle in hand, and moved carefully toward the front of the house, staying low and out of sight of the windows.

Through a gap in the curtains, she could see the men spreading out around the property. The first man—the one she'd mentally labeled as the leader—was directing the others with hand signals. Military. Or former military. Their movements were too coordinated, too practiced to be ordinary thugs.

Which made them all the more dangerous.

She needed a better vantage point. The cabin's second floor had a small loft with windows facing the approach road. If she could get up there without being seen, she'd have a decent firing position.

Moving silently, she made her way to the stairs, wincing at every creak of the wooden floor. The loft ladder was pulled up, a security measure Blade had implemented before leaving. She reached for it, then froze as voices drifted through an open window.

"...sure this is the place?" one was saying.

"Positive," replied another. "GPS coordinates match exactly. This is Blade's cabin."

"Doesn't look like anyone's home," a third voice observed.

"They're here," the leader insisted. "Or they will be soon. Zeb said Blade went to rescue his buddy at the hunting cabin. He'll be coming back here for the girl."

"And what's so special about this chick anyway?" the first voice asked. "Why not just put a bullet in her and be done with it?"

"Because Zeb wants her alive," the leader replied sharply. "Our job is to deliver, not ask questions. Now get into position. I want eyes on every approach. When Blade returns, we take him out fast, then secure the girl."

They're going to kill him, Lily realized with horror. They're going to ambush him the moment he returns, then take me to Zeb.

She couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen.

With renewed determination, she pulled down the loft ladder as quietly as possible and climbed up.

The small space was dusty and cramped, but offered an excellent view of the front yard and the road beyond.

She set up the rifle, nestling the stock against her shoulder just as her father had taught her.

Through the scope, she counted five men total. All armed with handguns, at least two with rifles. The leader, the weathered man she'd seen first, was clearly giving the orders, positioning the others strategically around the cabin.

Too many to take on directly, she thought grimly. But maybe enough to scare off if I can create some confusion.

Her mind raced, considering options. She could try to pick them off one by one, but she wasn't confident enough in her marksmanship for headshots. And if she missed, they'd know exactly where she was.

She needed a distraction. Something to scatter them, to give her a chance to escape or at least to warn Blade somehow.

Her eyes fell on the propane tank at the side of the cabin. A risky move, but potentially effective. If she could rupture it with a shot, the escaping gas might create enough of a diversion for her to slip away and try to intercept Blade before he drove into the trap.

It was dangerous. Reckless, even. But staying put meant certain death for Blade and a fate potentially worse than death for herself.

She took a deep breath, steadying her aim on the propane tank's valve assembly. One good shot should do it. Then she'd need to move fast down the ladder, out the back door, into the woods before they could regroup.

Her finger tightened on the trigger.

Then she paused, a new thought surfacing. The satellite phone. She might still be able to reach Blade or Savage. Warn them of the ambush without putting herself at risk.

But the phone was back in the safe room. She'd need to retreat, abandoning her vantage point and potentially losing track of the men's positions.

Damn it.

A sudden movement outside caught her attention. Through the scope, she saw the leader checking his watch, then speaking into a radio. Receiving a message, perhaps?

Then he smiled a cold, predatory smile that sent chills down her spine.