Page 85 of Rogue Mission

My lungs are on fire. My legs are screaming. I’m more scared, more supercharged than ever before.

“One more floor to go,” Ryker says and I can barely hear him over my breathing.

We hit the ground floor and the final exit door comes into sight.

Justice’s hand is on my back, pushing me to go faster.

Then he hits the bar on the door. It swings open to an empty loading dock and I’m swamped with relief that’s surely premature.

“Thank you, Ryker!” I wheeze.

Cold night air surrounds my face. It’s fresh and crisp, and I’ve never been so grateful for oxygen in my life.

“I’m to your right,” Ryker barks, “Move, move, move!”

The black pickup truck is idling at the curb, rear passenger door already open.

My energy reserves are waning.

Justice practically throws me into the back seat, my hip scraping over the buckles as Justice dives in after me. His body is a heavy, crushing me as he slams the door.

We’re both breathing heavily when Ryker floors it.

Below us tires squeal as we peel away from the building.

“We did it!” I sob, clinging to Justice’s neck with shaking arms.

He grunts. “Yep.”

That’s when I realize he’s pressing his hand to his left shoulder. I gasp, my eyes going wide. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

He’s been shot.

Bright red blood is seeping between his fingers, soaking his shirt sleeve.

“You’re shot,” I choke out, reaching for him, but unsure where to touch him.

Grimacing, he nods. “Just a graze.”

“No, you’re bleeding,” My voice cracks. “A lot.”

THIRTY-TWO

I’ve seen blood before. Mine and anonymous blood in vials, but I have never seen someone bleeding from a gunshot.

It’s terrifying.

Ryker demands from the front, “How bad?”

“I’m fine.” Justice’s tone brooks no argument. But he’s grimacing, more blood seeping between his index and middle fingers.

I grab his wrist. “Let me see it.”

“Rosalie—”

“Now.” I tug on his gigantic arm, not really standing a chance of pulling it away if he doesn’t want me to.

But he relents, exhales roughly, peeling his hand away.