Page 87 of Intense (Beneath The Blaze #3)

STEPHANIE

“ W ait. I’m unlocking the car back here,” Rowan orders as we step outside.

“Uh. Okay.”

He clicks the button and the soft chirp of the Rolls Royce makes my chest tighten even further.

Rowan positions himself behind me, his gun angled low and discreet, his eyes sweeping left and right like we’re already under fire. “Stay close.”

He guides me to the trunk and I pop it open. The cool night air hits me with the faint scent of oil and metal, and there it is—the little black bag Finn insisted on packing himself. Seeing it now feels like a lifeline.

I grab the handle, clutching it to my chest. “Got it.”

Rowan’s jaw clenches as he takes the gun out and shoves my purse in the back of the trunk before shutting it quietly.

“Take this. Keep it discreet.” Rowan grunts.

As I take it, I take a deep breath. Fuck.

The parking lot looks empty, but it doesn’t feel empty. My skin prickles with the sense of being watched, like eyes are on us from every corner.

Someone tried to hurt Finn.

“Back inside. Quick.” His tone is calm, but I hear the steel underneath. He places a hand at my back, moving me forward, his body a barrier between me and whatever threat he sees in every shadow.

My heels crunch on the gravel, my heart slamming with every step. All I can think about is Finn, pale and sweating, forcing himself to stand upright. Poison crawling through his veins.

Everything was perfect. The dance. Hearing him say those words. I can’t lose him.

I tighten my grip on the bag. He’s still alive. He’s still fighting. And I’ll drag him back from the brink with my bare hands if I have to.

As Rowan opens up the emergency exit to the stairs, a bang makes me jump, the blood draining from me.

The world fractures with the crack of a gunshot.

Rowan jerks beside me, his hand flying to his stomach. For a split second, I can’t even process it. Then the wet warmth of blood seeps through his fingers, and my scream rips from my throat.

I bring my hands to my mouth to muffle the noise.

“Go!” he snarls, his voice raw with pain as he bundles me forward, shoving me into the side entrance before another shot can follow. The door slams shut behind us, and the silence on this side is deafening compared to the ringing in my ears.

We stagger into the stairwell and his legs buckle. He collapses hard against the wall, sliding down until he’s sitting on the concrete, breath ragged.

“No, no, no, stay with me.” My hands shake as I rip his jacket off, pressing it against the hole in his stomach; the blood is soaking through too fast.

“Let me look.”

I peel away his shirt carefully. It looks clean. But he needs help.

“Move, Stephanie. Finn needs you.” His voice is steel, even now.

He keeps tapping on his ear.

“Fuck. I’ve lost it,” he hisses as he tips his head back.

His back slides down the wall and he sits on the floor.

“You need medic?—”

“Phone,” he cuts me off, grimacing. “Pass me my phone from my pocket.”

I fumble it out of his jacket with slippery fingers, thrusting it into his hand. He dials with a grunt, his jaw clenched against the pain.

“No fucking signal.” He squeezes his eyes shut.

I want to stay, to keep pressure on the wound until help comes, but his hand clamps over mine, forcing me back.

“Up the stairs, Stephanie. You don’t stop. You hear me? Get me help. And don’t be afraid to shoot anyone that gets in your way.” His words are a command, not a request.

He hands me my gun and the medical bag and I shake my head.

“What if they come for you first?”

He waves me away. “I can fight anyone except your husband and I’m loaded up.” He tries to grin.

A chill runs down my spine.

Tears blur my vision as I nod, trembling, and scoop up the black medical bag again. My legs feel like lead, but I run, each step pounding with panic.

At the top, the hallway stretches before me. The door to the bathroom looms only feet away. Finn is inside. Relief and terror twist together in my chest.

I reach for the handle?—

And a hand clamps over my mouth, yanking me back before I can scream.

The bag slips from my grip, hitting the ground with a heavy thud. I fight against him; my arm smashes against the wall, and the gun clatters to the floor before the world goes black.