Page 139 of Guarded Knight

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.