Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
When the first window shatters, I flinch so hard I nearly fall off the chair. Boone is in motion practically in the same second, lunging, pivoting, and slamming the attacker into the wall with brutal precision.
He disarms him in seconds and takes him down with a strike that makes my stomach turn. I’ve never seen him fight before, and I haven’t even looked up any of his old videos, but just that one move makes it absolutely crystal clear why he’s still widely hailed as one of the best in the Hall of Fame.
Chance fires at the second man the instant he appears in the open window, one clean shot to the leg. Disabling, but not deadly. Even in the chaos, it looks like he remembers the lines he doesn’t want to cross.
Pride swells in my chest even though my lungs burn, watching it all happen on a screen I can’t reach through. Three more men burst through the patio doors and glass explodes across the hardwood.
Dillon drops behind the dining table, a surprisingly competent soldier as he fires controlled shots.
Chance is pinned behind the couch.
Bullets tear through the cushions and he dives behind the armchair just in time, cursing.
My men are fighting for their lives and for our babies. For me. And all I’m doing is sitting in a reinforced box, praying the door holds.
But then I see him.
A sixth attacker I missed on the monitors moves like a shadow behind Boone, quiet and deliberate. His rifle lifts, aimed at the back of Boone’s skull, and my body doesn’t ask permission. It doesn’t wait for my brain to catch up.
I’m in motion, slamming the emergency release without even thinking. The door hisses open and I don’t hesitate or even pause long enough to be afraid. I just move.
My bare feet smack against the hallway floor as I snatch the fireplace poker from the stand by the door, the metal cold enough to sting my palm but not even that snaps me out of it. I sprint into the living room just as the man’s finger tightens on the trigger.
I swing with everything I have.
The poker crashes into his shoulders with a sickening crack and his gun fires upward, the shot going wide, the bullet burying itself in the ceiling instead of my boyfriend’s brain. Boone whirls around, and the second he sees me, he goes white.
White with fear. With fury. With the realization that I’ve broken the one rule they gave me.
But the attacker is staggering from my blow. Boone doesn’t give him a chance to recover, moving faster than my eyes can track as he lifts his gun and fires one clean, furious shot straight into the man’s shoulder.
He crumples, his weapon skidding across the floor. I blink hard, caught between awe and stunned disbelief at how fast this is all happening. It seems impossible but I don’t even have time to exhale the breath I’ve been holding before Chance is on me.
He grabs me by the arms, hauling me closer so hard that my toes barely brush the floor. His face is all ice, fury, and absolute terror. I’ve never seen him like this.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “You’re supposed to be in the safe room, Roxie.”
“I… Boone… he…” My brain suddenly stutters, adrenaline coursing through me so intense it rattles my bones. “He didn’t see the guy. I couldn’t just watch him die.”
Chance’s jaw clenches hard. “You were supposed to keep yourself and the babies safe. That was the only rule.”
“I won’t apologize for saving him,” I shoot back, my voice cracking and my chin lifting.
His nostrils flare, but under the fury is something else. Something a lot more raw. He doesn’t get the chance to say whatever is about to rip out of him because Dillon shouts from upstairs, “Chance! Behind you!”
Chance spins in what can only be a mash-up of instinct, muscle memory, and pure training. I feel him move before I even see the man in the doorway, his rifle already raised. Chance’s gun is up too, the man already in his sights, but he’s just a fraction of a second too late.
The sound of a gunshot shatters the air, a punch of force that slams through Chance’s upper arm. He grunts, his body jolting backward.
A scream rips out of me before I can stop it, but he doesn’t fall. He doesn’t even hesitate. He just shoves me behind him with his good arm, lifts his weapon with the injured one, and, ignoring the blood running down to his elbow, fires two controlled shots that drop the attacker instantly.
Somehow, he stays standing through it all, shielding me without even making it look like he’s trying.
“Clear!” Dillon’s voice echoes down the stairs only a beat later, breathless and loud. “All hostiles down. Law enforcement ETA ten minutes!”