Page 51 of Guarded Knight (Echo Valley #3)

Anton loosens his shoulders; we’re both still stuck in suits from the gala.

“You take the west, I’ll sweep the east.”

Just then, a male voice slices through the quiet, echoing off the walls inside and out through the cracks in a boarded-up window.

“Angel!”

Another shout. Louder. Desperate.

“You can’t get out!”

She’s on the run.

My girl. I had to have faith she’d slip away from him somehow…

He doesn’t have her. But he’s after her.

There’s no time to plan.

I’m already moving. “Go,” I bite, without sparing him a glance.

Anton doesn’t hesitate and disappears to the east.

I stalk the edge of bricks and crumbling mortar until I find a low ventilation window, mesh rusted through. I pry the blade of my pocketknife around the edges and peel back the mesh and then… I’m inside.

Silent, crouched, ready to hunt.

The warehouse stretches wide and long—concrete floors pitted with water stains, enormous pressing machines scattered like industrial corpses.

A catwalk spans half the perimeter overhead, leading to a hallway where I assume there are offices.

Garment bags hang from chains that groan with the wind. It’s a damn good place to get ambushed.

I’ve worked in worse terrain, worse odds. But never with the love of my life on the line.

God, don’t let me fail her. Take my sleep, my peace, hell, take me—but not her.

The sound of banging on what I think is an exit door echoes through the space, but I can’t see her here.

Light catches dust in the air through large, broken windows.

Then… bare feet slap on concrete floors, running. I can’t see her over the machinery in front of me, but from the quick, gentle slap on the floor, I know… It’s her.

I want to set off with an explosion toward her, but… fuck. He could be armed. He could have a gun trained on her.

You don’t win by rushing in, Gabriel.

God, my feet want to move, and my mouth goes dry. I have to get to her.

Anton should be looking to breach that side of the building now.

“You can’t leave… You won’t leave me. Not again…” Trent bellows.

I stalk through the shadows of the archaic machinery, and when I finally see her through a crack of an old rusted clothing rack, she’s diving under a machine… and he has her just as fast.

I raise my weapon for a shot, wanting to murder him for touching her, revenge coursing like fire through my veins, but there are too many obstructions.

And before I can get a new sight on him, Trent’s got her locked against him in a grotesque hold, arm crushed across her chest, dragging her backward into the far end of the space like a butcher hauling meat.

My lungs seize.

My soul turns dark.

And my finger twitches on the trigger.

Sweat beads down my temple, and every muscle in my body is coiled tight as I stare down the site for a clean shot.

I can’t fucking lose her.

I gnash my teeth together to keep me from calling out, to keep me from doing anything stupid.

He might have a gun. A knife…

Lara’s legs buckle beneath her, and her face is pale with panic, lips parted in shallow gasps as she tries to twist free and coughs.

I’m a fucking mess of rage. I want to scream down on him like an atomic bomb, but I have to act instead. Feelings get men killed.

Feelings get her killed.

Control the rage. Breathe through it.

Kill later.

I stalk my way into position, and that’s when a small movement flickers to my right. I swiftly move my Glock, but it’s Anton, positioned behind a laundry cart.

I glance over at him and point to my eye as a signal.

Does he have a shot on target?

He gives me a thumbs down.

Shit.

I steady my breath and crouch, lean… anything. The angle is wrong. Too many obstructions. If I miss, if my bullet ricochets… it’s her blood on the floor.

Trent presses her roughly against the wall. “Why did you do this? Now I have to punish you.”

My pulse quickens, pulse pounding in my ears.

I will murder him.

Her face is full of fear, tears leaving white trails through the dust on her cheeks. Her coughing fit is taking over, and worry kicks in. She needs to calm down or she’ll get worse.

I shift, hoping she’ll see me. If she knows I’m here… maybe she can calm… I shift again, subtle but in the open. And finally, her eyes meet mine for a mere moment.

Not long enough for him to notice. But long enough for her to see me press two fingers over my heart.

I got you.

She quickly averts her gaze, pinches her eyes shut, and breathes. I can hear the phlegm gurgling in her lungs even from this distance. I need her out of here now… she needs medical attention.

She opens her eyes again and pretends to look in the distance but captures my SEAL signal. One of many that Xander and I taught her growing up when we first became obsessed with enlisting.

A fist.

Hold.

We need to buy time.

Even now, even with that beast salivating from above her, she calibrates. The girl I left behind all those years ago became the woman who can fight like this, and I want to fall to my knees for ever leaving that behind.

Is this my punishment for losing innocents?

War memories tug at my mind, like they do right before I lose it. I ground myself back to the moment.

If I go to Hell, I’m taking that bastard with me.

Her lashes flutter like she might cry, but she doesn’t. She makes a move.

“Trent,” she says, voice cracking, buying time exactly like I signaled. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up,” he shouts with such force spit flies on her face.

Vengeance sears in my veins.

“See? You’re making me yell now?” He smooths her hair then kisses it. “That medicine I gave you… It’s making you confused. You’ll see soon. You don’t want to leave. You belong with me.”

He slides a hand over her breast and holds it. I’m detonating inside. My body flares with rage.

She coughs again.

I flank left, ducking behind racks of mildewed coats and ruined hotel linens where I might be able to get a shot from the side.

His every word is insane. “When will you see it? We belong together…”

Her voice is thick and hoarse from coughing, running… all this dust, but it’s now laced with something else. Persuasion. Manipulation. “I know we can work this out, Trent. I’m just…” Her gaze connects with mine. “…broken.”

That word cuts like a blade. She’s the opposite of broken. She’s strength made flesh.

And maybe I’m not broken either. Maybe I was never broken. Maybe every fracture welded into something stronger. Because staring at this monster with my woman in his clutches? I feel more powerful than ever.

I could tear the man in two with my bare hands.

I curl my finger tighter on the trigger. But I still can’t take the shot. He has to move. I stay steady. Eyes on my target.

She knows what she’s doing. Maybe she knows he isn’t armed. Or at least thinks he isn’t.

He sniffs her head. “You want to be fixed?”

He’s dropping his guard.

“You’re right, Trent.” Lara shifts her fingers slightly near the pocket of her dress. “I need your help.”

Her dress catches the light. And that’s when I see it.

Scissors.

Trent doesn’t see it coming.

She slams the blade into his thigh.

He lets out a scream that echoes through the rafters.

She pulls it out and stabs again, then again. Short, wild, sharp bursts.

Blood pours down his leg, and she pulls it out one last time, keeping her weapon like a fucking warrior. Doubled over in pain, he loses his grip on her. But before she gets away, Trent grabs her wrist.

Blood blooms on her knuckles as she grips the scissors tighter and makes a move for his arm, but she misses.

And then… she ducks.

One chance.

All clear.

Now.

Two shots fire at the same time. Anton and I are in sync, like trained SEALs are. I get Trent’s shoulder. Anton gets his leg. The bastard jerks sideways, roaring in agony, blood soaking through his shirt.

But somehow, he keeps going. He lunges for Lara, snarling. He manages to grab the back of her dress, and she falls to the floor.

I sprint forward, crash into him before he has her again, and we hit the floor with an explosion.

My ribs slam down hard onto the concrete. My gun skitters across the floor.

Trent claws at my face. I block, punch, twist. He’s stronger than I expected, fueled by pain and mania.

My fist cracks his jaw. Blood sprays into the dust beneath us. He tries to roll, gasping, flailing for leverage, but I bear down on his throat with my forearm, smashing his head against the floor.

“You think you can touch her?” I growl, rage low and lethal in my throat. “You think you get to fucking breathe after this?”

He rasps something—a plea, a curse, I don’t care. I don’t want this motherfucker to ever speak again.

I punch him mercilessly, my fists breaking bone until his blood stains the floor.

“You touched her,” I say through gritted teeth.

He coughs, teeth pink with blood. “She… she needed me—”

Wrong answer.

“You lay your hands on her…” I hiss through gritted teeth. “You die.”

I wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze. I’m out of control; I want this man dead so hard I’m not sure if I’m running on instinct or logic. I let in just enough air so he suffers, so he can feel it happening slowly…

And then I see her—Lara, glassy-eyed, scissors raised, ready to strike again. If I keep going, I’ll lose myself, and she’ll lose me, too.

I need to forget this son of a bitch and get her to a hospital.

That’s what matters. The longer I keep her here, the worse this attack could be, and showing this man his maker isn’t worth losing her.

This is our second chance, and I’m not going to lose it. Even to rid this world of a monster like Trent.

I shove him by the forehead so the back of his head hits the hard floor. He’s bleeding from all his limbs.

I turn to Lara. She’s all that matters now, and I know how fast CF can push her downhill.

“We need to get you to a doctor.” I slide my arm around her waist and she tumbles into my arms.

Anton, unbothered by me beating the shit out of this man, thankfully took the moment to call in backup.

He hangs up his cell. “Cops will be here in ten.” He bends over to lift and prop Trent up again to a seated position, then trains his gun on him. “An ambulance is coming, too.”

Lara’s lungs gurgle beneath my hold, and it scares the hell out of me, but she smiles at Anton and cracks a joke.

“I don’t need a ride. I got a laundry truck outside with plenty of gas.”

“Pzzt,” Anton softens for her. “Remind me not to mess with you.”

She’s shaking in my hold, shock overcoming her small frame. She still grips the scissors like she’s not sure it’s over. Like if she lets go of them, she might fall apart.

The concrete must be freezing under her feet. The air in here is too sharp and dirty for lungs like hers.

I gather her up in my arms to cradle her, pull her in tighter, shelter her with everything I have. I place my forehead on hers, and my voice frays on the words.

“It’s over.”

The scissors clatter to the floor. Her fingers fist into my shirt, and she cries into my chest. The warmth and heat of her tears bloom over my heart and I succumb to the moment, too.

I almost lost her.

One hot, sharp tear makes its way down my cheek. The second I’ve ever shed, the first was when my mother died.

But I don’t wipe it away. I don’t hide any of it. I bury my face into the crook of her neck and breathe her in like she’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the world.

“I thought I lost you,” I choke.

Her voice is muffled against my shirt. “You could work on your timing.”

I laugh, but it’s broken, shaky and shredded. “I’d tear the world apart to get to you.”

Her gentle hand comes up and frames my jaw. Our gazes connect, and my whole inner world shifts.

I’m not broken. I’m remade. Every scar, every crack, it all fused into something harder, more certain.

Maybe this was always the path—to take the worst this world gave me and turn it into something better.

Looking into her eyes, I don’t just want to survive the pain.

I want to carry it and still taste every moment anyway—like she does.

Nothing easy is ever worth a damn.

We’re not easy, but we’re worth it.

I say the thing I should’ve said before the blood, the fear, the fight. The one truth that’s lived in my chest all this time, buried under guilt, fear, and armor I never knew how to take off.

“I love you, Lara. I’ve always loved you.”

She’s quiet and stares at me with those hazel eyes, warm as honey.

I smooth my thumb over her cheek. “I might be fucked up. But you want it? I’m yours.”

She coughs and she winces but laughs somehow, despite it. “I want it.”

I kiss her softly and think about having her in this life. Even in the next. “Looks like we’re going under together.”

“I told you I didn’t want to be there alone,” she whispers. “Seems appropriate that the mermaid would end up with a Navy SEAL.”

My eyes sting again.

I don’t like thinking about the end when it’s just the beginning.

“How about I take you to the surface?”