Page 155 of Fighting With Light

Out of the corner of my eye, Aelia is dodging another’s advances, as they get dangerously close to the pool. At the last second he rushes her, and they both fall in.

Aelia screams, and I haul ass over there. The pool lights illuminate both of them underwater, and I lift my gun to shoot, but the water and movement obscure my view. I can’t make a clean shot. She gasps with her head above water before she’s yanked back down.

“Aelia!”

Diving in after her, aiming for the man trying to take her from me, I’m able to wrap myself around him from his back and push him deeper underwater. He lets go of Aelia, and I see her swim away. He thrashes around in the water, trying to fight from my hold. Since he hasn’t come up for air, I know his lungs are starting to scream.

But he catches me by surprise and elbows me in the ribs. I grunt and punch him in the face, but all our movements are slowed by the water. I take one last blow and push away from him to create space between us.

We come up for air at the same time, and I can’t pull my gun out of the water fast enough to shoot him. Then brain matter splashes onto my face. Aelia stands on the edge of the pool, dripping, with a gun in her hand, pointed at the now-dead attacker.

I dip back under the water to wash my face off and haul myself out of the pool. “The pool guy is going to bepissed.”

“Are you okay?” she asks, reaching for me.

“Never better. Let’s finish this.”

Emerson is standing above two men, and neither looks like they are breathing. My brother took a punch to the face and I’m sure his knuckles are split, but he looks otherwise unfazed.

We head off to the other part of the team, helping them eliminate more in the back and end up in closer quarters than we hoped. A few of our men look dead on the ground, and the attackers have us surrounded.

I shoot, and Aelia throws a knife, landing in the center of the man’s throat. He steps back surprised, then angrily runs towards her. His head explodes courtesy of Emerson’s bullet and drops before her feet. She leans over, pulling her knife from his throat. The sound of gunfire has died down and the eerie quiet as the team from the other side of the property jogs over to us.

“All have been eliminated, sir,” he says to Emerson.

He nods. “Check the perimeter again and call in another team to replace you. Go home and rest up.”

“Will do,” he says, and they jog off.

Dragging my forearm across my forehead, I grimace at the feeling.

“Oh…you…” Aelia reaches for me and rubs my forehead. “Yeah, that’s not going to come off. You’re going to need a shower.”

“The same could be said for you, princess,” I grumble.

She winks at me with scraped up arms, her face is swollen again from getting hit, and blood splatters her vest. I don’t know how we got out of this almost unscathed, but I’m grateful.

Emerson leads the way into the house and calls out to Clarence and Mom. They come from the room in the back corner of the house, and Mom inspects us.

“Don’t get blood on my carpet. Go clean up.”

Emerson and I look at each other, and Mom saunters into the kitchen. I hold my hand out for Aelia, and we all head for the staircase. There are a few broken windows and probably bullet holes in the bricks, but that can be fixed.

Aelia whimpers and I spin around. She avoids my gaze and I grab her face, wincing in the process because she’s hurtagain. She holds her side and stands there.

“Show me right now,” I command.

She groans and lifts her t-shirt. The fibers of the shirt seem like they got stuck in her wound, and gingerly peels it off. There’s a stab wound about an inch wide and my heart drops.

“It’s fine, Liam, it’s just surface. I don’t think he punctured anything.”

“You think, or youknow?” I ask, trying to swallow a new bout of fear.

Emerson squats down in front of her abdomen with a flashlight, and then the power comes back on. He sets the flashlight down and grabs Aelia’s hip, turning her to the side. She hisses as he touches it, and I try not to break my brother’s hand.

“She’s right, it’s surface. If it wasn’t, it would be bleeding harder and the depth would be more visible. It barely cut through muscle.”

I look at Aelia, who is watching Emerson touch her. “Hey, babe, you’re marrying me. Remember?”