Page 39 of The Bodyguard and the Alpha (Witch Twins #2)

Electra

Without warning, Bastien straightened from his crouch over the bench.

He whirled to face the garage door, bellowing a challenge.

My gaze followed his. The garage door was wide open, and black-clad figures streamed into the room.

My mind dropped into combat mode. Clinically, I noted the details.

Eight intruders, moving smoothly. Gasmasks covered their faces and they all carried weapons.

But the strangely shaped guns weren’t aimed at us. Not yet, at least.

I jumped to my feet, my training kicking in automatically.

“Get down,” I shouted. But, of course, Bastien paid no attention.

He moved, putting himself between me and the newcomers.

Instinctively, I reached for my magic to create a shield between us and the oncoming men.

Shit, shit, shit. I had been so close to having my magic.

I snarled in frustration. No magic. No weapon.

And an eight-foot Alpha ogre who thought it was his job to protect me, not the other way around.

“Mr President, are you well?” I recognised the voice.

It was Matteo. I’d worked with Matteo since I’d joined the President’s security team.

Relief made my legs wobbly. They weren’t Humans First. They were Palace security.

It was then I registered the distinctive Shifter gracefulness as they moved.

I should have noticed it already. Panic had made me stupid.

A low growl was Bastien’s only response.

The guards had fanned out around the room, but none of them approached. We seemed to be in some strange stand-off.

“Bastien?” I put my hand on his back. His muscles were rigid, ready for battle. Something was wrong. He wasn’t recognising that these were allies, not enemies. Scrambling to make sense of his reaction, I tried again. “They will take us back to the Palace.”

Bastien’s growl grew in volume. His voice was clear in my mind. Get down. Under the bench.

What? No.

NOW!

They aren’t our enemies.

I won’t let them take you from me.

I took a shocked breath. He wanted me to hide.

He planned to fight them. All of them. I couldn’t let him do that.

He wasn’t thinking rationally. Sane Bastien would never hurt any of these men.

And if he’d been clear headed, he would have known that they wouldn’t use lethal force against him: he was the President.

They would lay down their lives for him.

While they were armed, there was no way their guns contained lethal bullets.

But Bastien wasn’t thinking straight. Not at all. He had descended into a primal state of protectiveness. In this state of mind, he would kill anyone he saw as a threat. And right now, he saw his own men as that threat.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. How did I fix this? Under my hand, his muscles bunched as he readied himself for battle. I had to stop him. And I had to do it now. He would never forgive himself if he attacked his men; beside his brother, these were his closest friends.

Only one idea came to mind. It was drastic. He might see it as a betrayal. But the clock was ticking.

Would he forgive me if I did this? I swallowed down the bile that threatened. He was the President and I had sworn an oath to protect him. That had to include protecting him from himself. My personal feelings couldn’t matter.

Elie?

Right, he could tell that I was panicking. I shoved the emotions down, into the box where I kept everything I couldn’t cope with. Yes, I should have had therapy. That box was getting pretty fucking full.

I stilled my mind. I’m going . It wasn’t a lie, just not the whole truth.

One step backward. Bastien didn’t react. One more. My back was now pressed against the bench. My pulse fluttered in my throat. My feet didn’t want to move. But I had no choice. I had to do this, for him.

Bending my knees in readiness, I turned my head just enough to get Matteo in my field of vision. I was betting Bastien’s life that he was loyal. No pressure.

One more minute and I would have had my pre-cog. Everything I knew about Matteo told me that Bastien would be safe if I carried through with my insane idea, but without my magic I had no way to know.

“Gas?” I mouthed at Matteo. He gave me a miniscule nod in response.

Okay. I could do this. I could be the distraction.

Elie, under the bench. Bastien’s mental voice was strained.

In college I had been a gymnastics star. In another life, I could have competed internationally. But for me, gymnastics had only been allowed because it had given me flexibility and taught me moves that I could use to surprise an opponent.

My back flip onto the bench was sloppy, but I landed on my feet. Immediately I jumped again, my hands reaching for the bars that ran the length of the barn ceiling.

No ! Bastien’s shout filled my mind. Large hands reached for my swaying legs, but I flipped them up, his fingers grazing my shoes, just a fraction too slow.

I looked down at him, refusing to hide from the burning flames of his eyes as the guns spat gas pellets while he was distracted.

I kept watching through my tears as the gas hit his system.

As he staggered, trying to fight, his legs weakening.

My heart shattered as he whispered, “Mate,” before he stumbled and fell backwards. As his eyes drifted shut.

Then the gas reached the ceiling and my own limbs trembled. My breathing grew shallow.

“I have you,” Matteo said beneath me. I let go, hating myself more than I ever had.