Cassidy squeezes my hand, her knuckles cold. “They’ll hold. They always do.”
I want to believe her, to cling to her certainty, but the monitors betray us. One of the men staggers into view, jerking as bullets slam the ground around him, his weapon firing in ragged bursts before his body pitches sideways. He crashes against the fence line, then vanishes beyond the edge of the camera, leaving only a smear of motion. My throat tightens until it aches, the grim certainty pressing down that not all of them will walk away from this fight.
Gage steps in last, sealing the door with a hiss. For a heartbeat I expect him to leave, to throw himself back into the fight with the others, but he stays. He’s here because protecting Cassidy and me is his charge, because Rush trusts him above all to keep us breathing. The room feels even smaller with him inside, his presence heavy and protective, pressing against me until my back meets the wall and there’s no escaping his nearness.
I press a hand to my racing heart. “What the hell is going on?”
“An attack,” he says flatly, eyes on the monitors. “Stay quiet.”
“I gathered that, Ranger,” I snarl, fear sharpening my tongue. “Care to explain why?”
His jaw tightens. “Later.”
“No. Not later. Now.” My voice wavers but holds. “I deserve to know what we’re up against.”
Cassidy touches my arm, a silent plea for patience, but I shake her off, the contact too light to hold me steady. My whole world is unraveling—murder in an island paradise, the memory of a gun pressed against my ribs, a bite that made me a wolf-shifter without my consent, and now armed men battering at our door.
The safe room feels less like a sanctuary and more like a coffin, every breath too shallow, every inch of space pressing against me. The air tastes stale, heavy with recycled fear, and my chest aches from the strain of holding it together. I can’t stand being boxed in with questions clawing at me, not when the lies closing in are more suffocating than the gunfire rattling the world outside.
The monitors flare with another burst of gunfire, the screen trembling as if it feels the concussive force. A figure goes down hard, sprawling into the dirt, while another shadow barrels forward with reckless speed. The echoes rattle through the walls, each report a reminder of how close the fight is pressing in. The Rangers are holding the line for now, but the question claws at me—how much longer can they last before the door to this room becomes the next battlefield?
I round on Gage. “Tell me the truth. Stop treating me like some helpless debutante you can tuck away in a closet.”
His eyes finally drag from the monitors and pin me in place. The intensity there robs me of air, a heat that makes my lungs stutter. He advances, closing the distance until his frame blots out everything else, the charged space between us vibrating with restrained force. His voice drops low, rough and unyielding. “You’re not helpless. That’s the problem.”
“Then let me help,” I fire back, anger breaking through the fear. “Don’t shove me into a corner and expect me to play nice.”
“You think this is a game?” His voice is razor sharp. “Out there are men who will put a bullet in your head and not lose a minute of sleep. You want to walk into that?”
“I’ve already walked into it!” I snarl. “I watched a man die. I’ve been dragged into cars, hunted through resorts, bittenwithout my permission. Don’t tell me I don’t understand danger.”
The air between us hums with a charge more dangerous than fear, an energy that prickles across my skin until every nerve feels exposed. His hand rises, knuckles grazing down my cheek in a touch so tender it jolts me, a contradiction to the raw power radiating off him. Beneath that gentleness, his body vibrates with contained fury, a storm he’s holding back by sheer force of will.
“Gage...” My voice falters.
His head dips, his lips hovering just above mine. “You want honesty?” His breath warms my mouth. “Here it is. You’re in more danger than you can imagine. And I can’t let anything happen to you.”
Then he kisses me.
It’s not sweet. It’s hungry, desperate, fierce, full of everything he refuses to speak. The force of it steals my balance, my knees threatening to give as my fists knot into his shirt to anchor myself. Heat floods through me in a rush so sharp it feels dangerous, a wildfire racing under my skin. For a moment the world outside—the gunfire, the terror, the lies—dissolves, leaving nothing but the crush of his mouth on mine and the raw need that sears between us.
When he finally tears away, both of us are breathing hard. His forehead presses to mine, his voice a growl. “When this is over, I’ll tell you everything. But not before.”
I bite down on my frustration. "What everything? What don't I know? Do you think a kiss is going to distract me from the fact that I’m in the dark? That I don’t understand everything about what I’ve been turned into?”
His eyes burn hotter. “That kiss was the truth you said you wanted.”
Cassidy clears her throat, her voice brittle. “Not really the time, you two.”
On the monitors, the shadows surge again, figures moving with ruthless precision. One of the cameras fizzles into static, the picture collapsing in a shower of white noise. My stomach knots tighter. The attack isn’t finished, not by a long shot. And the battle crackling between Gage and me feels just as volatile, a private war neither of us seems willing to surrender.
The siren shrieks without warning, rattling the reinforced walls as the safe room lights stutter and dim. Power falters, flickers back to life, then steadies in a way that feels fragile, temporary. A cold weight sinks through me, dragging my stomach down until I feel hollow.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means they’re smarter than we gave them credit for,” Gage mutters. He checks the control panel, his shoulders tight. “They’ve cut the generators.”
“Can they get in here?” Cassidy whispers.
