“Bear stays with you in the safe room. Chaos comes with me.” He fastens the last straps of the snow camouflage, shoulders settling into readiness.
At his name, the Malinois’s ears prick forward, his body vibrating with anticipation. Where Bear is the shield, Chaos is the sword—designed and trained for precisely this kind of operation.
I hesitate, caught in the sudden, visceral fear that this might be the last time I see him. “Mason…”
“This isn’t a request, Willow.” Command fills his tone. “It’s an order. Go. Now.”
My body responds before my mind can argue, submission flooding my system at his command. I turn toward the bedroom but pause at the threshold, looking back.
“What’s your last name?” The question sounds ridiculous even to my ears, but suddenly it seems vital to know.
A ghost of a smiletouches his lips. “Blackwood. Mason Blackwood.”
“Stay alive, Mason Blackwood.” I try for lightness, but my voice betrays me. “I’ve only just found you.”
Something softens in his expression. “I’ve got too much to live for to die today.” His eyes hold mine, a promise in their depths. “Go, little one. I’ll come for you when it’s over.”
Bear follows me to the bedroom, his massive body a reassuring presence at my side. The hidden compartment in the closet floor opens with a pressure mechanism, revealing a large room underneath. It’s lined with what looks like Kevlar and contains emergency supplies—water, energy bars, a first aid kit, even an oxygen mask.
Mason’s fortress within a fortress.
I slip inside. Bear follows, his warmth a comfort in the confined space. Chaos remains with Mason, a more effective weapon than I realize. The panel slides silently closed above us, plunging us into darkness until my eyes adjust to the thin strips of light filtering through nearly invisible ventilation slots.
The world goes silent, and we wait.
Then—
BOOM!
An explosion rattles the walls.
NINE
Mason
Chaos detectsthem before the sensors do. His hackles rise as he positions himself by the door, a four-legged weapon primed and ready. Bear’s already with Willow in the safe room—right where I need them both.
Protecting Willow is my singular focus, a mission that eclipses everything else. Not because she’s an innocent caught in the crossfire. Not because she carries evidence that could bring down a corrupt federal judge. But because in less than twenty-four hours, she’s somehow become essential.
Necessary.
Mine.
The thought should terrify me.
After Rachel, I swore I’d never let another person get close enough to become a liability. A target. Yet here I am, prepared to unleash hell on anyone who threatens the woman I protect.
Movement flickers across the security monitor. Three heat signatures approaching from the southwest, using the trees for cover. Their formation suggests military training—staggered approach, with overlapping fields of fire.
Professional.
Methodical.
Good.
Professionals are predictable.
I check my weapons one last time. Glock 19X at my hip, suppressed. KA-BAR tactical knife strapped to my thigh. M4 carbine modified for close-quarters battle slung across my back. Flash-bangs and smoke grenades on my tactical vest. Overkill for most situations, but against trained operatives hunting an injuredwoman, I’m not taking chances.
