Protecting Her (Honor Bound #5)

Chapter 8

8

CARMEN

C armen woke to silence.

Not the natural quiet of early morning, but perhaps the manufactured stillness that preceded violence. Twenty-five years of negotiating in conflict zones had taught her to read the spaces between sounds and to recognize when silence masked approaching danger.

She found Jude already alert and moving, her fluid grace transformed into something sharper. Through the safe house's reinforced windows, dawn painted harsh shadows across the unfamiliar walls. Carmen watched Jude check security feeds and communication arrays, noting how her movements carried the same focused intensity that had become familiar.

"The signals are degrading," Jude reported, her voice carrying that particular edge that made Carmen's diplomatic instincts sharpen. "Multiple frequencies showing interference patterns."

Carmen moved to the command center's main console, bare feet silent on cold tile floors. The screens displayed their shrinking world: security cameras covering the property's perimeter, communication channels linking them to the outside, and surveillance feeds monitoring the surrounding streets. One by one, green status indicators flickered to amber, then red.

"They're isolating us," she said, recognizing the tactical approach from previous attempts on her life. "They’re cutting off communication first, then physical access." She studied the surveillance feeds, catching subtle changes in local traffic patterns. "The police patrols are too precise. Their coverage zones suggest military training."

Jude's slight pause spoke volumes. "You see it too?"

"I've had years of practice reading between lines and nonverbal cues." Carmen tracked another patrol car's too-perfect route. "In Venezuela, they used similar patterns before the ambush. Local authorities coordinating with private contractors, establishing containment zones while appearing routine."

Through the monitors, she watched Sarah test defensive positions while Marcus ran diagnostics on their equipment. The team moved with practiced efficiency, but Carmen caught the growing tension in their movements. They had all seen this pattern before, and it wasn’t going to end well.

A soft chime drew their attention as another communication channel went dark. Carmen studied Jude's reflection in the darkened screen, noting how the cut on her cheek caught the harsh light. The sight made her chest ache with everything they stood to lose.

"Multiple vehicles approaching from the south," Sarah reported through their dwindling radio links. "Black SUVs, no plates, professional spacing."

Carmen processed this information while watching Jude's hand move fractionally closer to her weapon. The gesture spoke of combat experience and protective instinct, but something in it felt more personal than professional now.

"They're better equipped than the cartel teams," Carmen noted, her analytical mind cataloging details even as her heart raced. "American weapons, special operations forces tactics. Probably the same unit that tried to assassinate you at the summit."

"Which means they know our protocols." Jude's voice carried dangerous understanding. "Someone with intimate knowledge of our operations fed them intelligence."

The betrayal hung between them as their world contracted with each lost connection. Carmen had built her career on reading subtle shifts in power and anticipating threats before they materialized. But this felt different. More final, more intimate than previous attempts on her life.

She caught Jude secretly watching her with an expression that spoke of memorizing details and storing away precious moments against whatever approached. Their eyes met in brief contact that conveyed volumes: trust and fear, determination and something deeper neither of them had named yet.

The safe house's lights flickered once, a warning of what was soon coming. Carmen straightened her spine, gathering decades of diplomatic steel around herself. She had survived war zones and assassination attempts. She had faced down warlords and corporate killers.

But she had never had so much to lose.

"We should move to the panic room," she said quietly, noting how Jude's posture shifted at her words. "Before they cut the main power."

"Not yet." Jude studied the surveillance feeds with lethal focus. "We need to maintain tactical flexibility for as long as possible. But yes, be ready."

Carmen touched Jude's arm briefly, feeling the coiled tension in her muscles. The contact grounded them both, a reminder of everything that had changed since that first security briefing in Washington.

Through the reinforced windows, morning light continued its implacable advance. But Carmen felt darkness approaching, the kind that had nothing to do with the sun casting shadows and everything to do with those shadows closing around their fortress.

She watched another communication channel die, its indicator shifting from hope to warning. Soon, they would be completely cut off. But as she studied Jude's reflection in the darkened screens, Carmen found strength in the certainty that some battles were worth any cost.

Even if the price was everything.

As if responding to Carmen's thoughts, the safe house's main power cut out with surgical precision. Emergency lighting activated immediately, bathing the safe house in cold blue light. Carmen moved with practiced efficiency, her muscles remembering similar situations in embassy safe rooms and diplomatic bunkers. But this felt different—more calculated, more personal.

"Multiple breach points," Sarah's voice crackled through their last working radio comms line. "Teams moving with military precision. Four entry zones identified."

Carmen watched Jude transform beside her. The change was subtle but absolute, every movement driven by pure tactical purpose. "Time to move."

They left the safe house’s command center together, Carmen matching Jude's pace without hesitation. As they walked, the safe house corridors felt longer in the emergency lighting. Carmen counted steps and turns, mapping their route to the panic room while tracking sounds of intrusion from above.

Glass shattered somewhere on the upper floor. Multiple sets of feet moved around the broken shards with practiced stealth, the kind that came from extensive training.

"They're inside." Jude's strained voice carried lethal focus. "We need to reach the panic room before they establish containment positions."

More glass broke, closer this time. Carmen felt Jude shift beside her, positioning herself to protect vital areas. The gesture should have felt stifling after decades of diplomatic protection. Instead, it made her chest feel tight.

They moved quickly through the blue-lit corridors toward their last remaining refuge. Carmen heard their attackers coordinating through military-grade communications, and their movements suggested intimate knowledge of the building's layout.

A shadowed figure appeared at the end of the hall, their weapon raised. Jude's reaction was instant and precise. The intruder went down before he could fire, but his radio crackled with position reports. They'd given away their location.

"Run," Jude ordered, her voice carrying that particular tone that left no room for hesitation or argument. "Panic room. Now."

They sprinted through the dimness, pursued by professionals with military training and corporate backing. Carmen's analytical mind kept working even as they fled: American weapons, special operations forces movements, the kind of coordination that only came from extensive preparation—or a leak. Or both.

The panic room's reinforced door appeared ahead, its steel surface reflecting emergency lights. They reached it just as more figures shrouded in shadows emerged behind them.

Gunfire erupted, bullets sparking against reinforced walls. Jude returned fire with controlled precision while guiding Carmen through the doorway. The heavy door sealed with a hydraulic hiss that felt terribly final.

Inside, emergency power bathed them in harsh light. Carmen watched Jude check the room's systems, noting how her efficient movements couldn't quite hide her growing concern.

"Communications are dead," Jude reported, her voice carrying forced calm. "Military-grade jamming equipment. They've completely cut us off from our team."

Carmen studied their attackers through the security feeds. Their movements confirmed her worst fears: these weren't cartel thugs or corporate mercenaries. These were highly trained operators executing a carefully planned assault.

"They knew exactly where to find us," she noted, her diplomatic training helping her maintain composure. "Building plans, security protocols, equipment specifications. Someone must have given them everything."

"A traitor." Jude's voice had a dark edge to it. "Not just anyone either. Someone with intimate knowledge of our operations."

Their world contracted to the panic room's reinforced walls. Outside, their attackers moved with practiced precision, securing the building floor by floor. The security feeds showed them placing charges at key structural points—not to breach the panic room, but to ensure no rescue team could reach them.

Carmen watched Jude exhaust every option, trying frequencies and protocols that had gotten them out of similar situations. But each attempt was met with silence or static, confirming what they both already knew: they were completely isolated.

The realization hit Carmen with physical force. They might not survive this. She'd faced the possibility of death before in war zones and failed negotiations. But this felt different. The thought of losing Jude made her composure crack in ways no previous threat had managed.

She moved closer to Jude, drawn by a certainty that had been building since Washington. "If these are our last moments..."

"Don't." Jude's voice roughened. "We'll find a way out. We always do."

"I know." Carmen touched the cut on Jude's cheek, memorizing its shape. "But in case we don't, I need you to know something."

Their eyes met in the panic room's harsh light. Carmen saw her own fears reflected in Jude's gaze, along with something deeper that made her heart race.

"I love you." The words felt like truth stripped bare. "Not because you protect me. Not because of our impossible circumstances. Just because you’re you."

Outside, their attackers moved closer. Carmen watched emotions war across Jude's features: love and faith, fear and determination, everything they'd been fighting since that first security briefing.

Then Jude kissed her with desperate intensity, tasting of bitter coffee and possibilities they might never get to explore. When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Carmen saw her own certainty reflected in Jude's eyes.

"I love you, too." Jude's voice carried absolute conviction. "Which is why I'm getting us out of here. Whatever it takes."

The words felt like a promise. Outside, their enemies continued their methodical advance. But inside the panic room's steel walls, Carmen found strength in the certainty that some things were worth any risk.

The panic room's ventilation system hummed steadily, cycling air through filters designed to last for days. Carmen stood at the security console, watching Jude work through their dwindling options. Each failed attempt at communication tightened the invisible noose around them.

"East sector breached," Sarah's voice crackled through their last working radio. "They're moving methodically, clearing rooms with trained precision."

Carmen studied the security feeds, her diplomatic mind analyzing patterns. The attackers moved like a well-rehearsed orchestra, each team coordinating perfectly with the others. Their gear marked them as American-trained, definitely former special operations forces who'd likely transitioned to private sector work.

"They're not trying to break in," she noted, watching them place more charges throughout the building. "They're making sure no one can break us out."

Jude's fingers stilled on the communications array. "You've seen this before?"

"Sudan, 2019. They trapped our negotiating team in a reinforced building, then waited." Carmen kept her voice steady despite the memory. "Patience is an effective weapon when time works in your favor."

The memory hung in the filtered air between them. Carmen watched Jude process this, noting how her tactical mind adapted to new information. In the harsh emergency lighting, every detail stood out in sharp relief: the tension in Jude's shoulders, the careful control in her movements, the way she positioned herself between Carmen and the door even now.

"The corporate contractors are coordinating with local forces," Carmen said, studying the surveillance feeds. "See how they're establishing containment zones? They're using legitimate police units as cover for their operation."

"And therefore making any rescue attempt look like interference with official law-enforcement business." Jude's voice carried steel beneath the exhaustion. "Smart." The praise sounded bitter.

Carmen moved closer, watching the screens. "In Venezuela, we lost three vehicles because local police were coordinating with cartel units. But this is different." She gestured to their attackers' formations. "This is someone who knows exactly how you operate."

"Someone who helped design our protocols." Jude pulled up another surveillance angle. "The question is why. Why now?"

"Because we were getting too close." Carmen's diplomatic instincts clicked the pieces into place. "The summit negotiations, the evidence of corporate involvement with Nuevo Amanecer—we were about to expose everything."

They worked in sync, analyzing feeds and tracking enemy positions. Carmen found herself matching Jude's movements subconsciously, their bodies finding natural alignment in the confined space. It reminded her of all those late nights reviewing security protocols, when professional walls had started crumbling without either of them noticing.

"When did you first suspect a traitor?" Carmen asked quietly.

"The summit. The way they anticipated our evacuation routes." Jude's voice softened. "But I was distracted."

"By what?"

"By you." Jude met her eyes briefly. "By how you kept your composure even with blood on your evening gown. How you analyzed their tactics while I checked you for injuries."

The admission carried weight. Carmen touched her arm gently. "You were just as distracting. The way you moved through that firefight, protecting everyone while making it look effortless."

A ghost of a smile touched Jude's lips. "Professional admiration?"

"At first." Carmen watched another team take position on the feeds. "Then I noticed other things. How you always had coffee ready before dawn briefings. The way you'd adjust your position whenever I entered a room. Small moments that had nothing to do with protection protocols."

Their eyes met in the harsh light. No declarations needed; they'd moved beyond them now. Understanding passed between them as another explosion rocked the building above.

"They're almost ready," Carmen said quietly.

Jude checked her weapon one final time. "So are we."

The words carried certainty born of shared purpose. Whatever came next, they would face it as one, together.

Explosions shook the building above. The infiltrators were closer now. Carmen studied the security feeds, counting teams and positions while Jude checked their remaining defenses. The panic room's filtered air tasted stale, despite the ventilation system working at full capacity.

"They're getting impatient," Carmen noted, watching another charge detonate on the floor above. Her diplomatic instincts recognized the shift in tactics. "Something's changed in their orders."

Through the feeds, she watched the tactical teams adjusting their positions. Their original precision had given way to something more aggressive. More urgent. She'd seen this pattern before when corporate interests decided time was no longer on their side.

"Six teams are converging on the east wing," Sarah's voice crackled through their failing radio. "They're—" Static consumed the rest.

Jude moved to the weapons locker, her movements precise and controlled. Carmen recognized the look in her eyes, the same expression she'd worn before the evacuation at the summit. The one that meant she was preparing to do something tactically sound but personally reckless.

"The north service tunnel," Jude said quietly, checking her weapon. "They haven't found it yet. If I create enough distraction?—"

"No." Carmen's diplomatic voice carried decades of authority. "I'm not leaving you."

"Carmen—"

"I've spent my career negotiating other people's wars." She stepped closer, forcing Jude to meet her eyes. "Finding compromise between opposing forces. Making peace from chaos." Her voice dropped lower. "But this isn't negotiable. Where you go, I go."

Another explosion rocked the building, closer than the others. On the security feeds, Carmen counted the opposition forces: twelve tactical teams, each carrying enough firepower to level a city block. Their movements had shifted from containment to assault.

"They're preparing for a final push," she observed, analyzing their new formation. "See how they're concentrating forces on the weak points? They know about the structural support beams."

Jude checked her spare magazines. "Which means they have the building plans. Probably from the same source that gave them our security protocols."

"The corporate contractors are improvising now." Carmen gestured to the feeds. "Look at their spacing. It's degrading. They expected us to be broken by now."

"Because they thought I'd choose protocol over..." Jude's voice trailed off.

"Over me?" Carmen touched her arm. "It looks like they don't know you very well, do they?"

A ghost of a smile touched Jude's lips. "No. They don't."

The next explosion sent dust filtering through the ventilation system. Carmen watched another security camera go dark, their view of the outside world shrinking with each detonation. Soon they would be completely blind.

"The tunnel leads to the old metro maintenance system," Jude said finally. "If we time it right?—"

"We might make it." Carmen emphasized the word. "Both of us."

Their eyes met in the harsh light. Carmen saw the moment Jude's resistance cracked, when tactical necessity yielded to something stronger than protocol.

"I had a whole speech prepared," Jude admitted quietly. "About duty and the mission and keeping you alive at any cost."

"And now?"

"Now I realize you'd never forgive me for leaving you behind." That ghost of a smile returned. "And I'd never forgive myself."

Through the feeds, Carmen tracked the assault teams' final preparations. They were deploying shaped charges now—military-grade explosives designed to breach reinforced positions. The same kind she'd seen used in Sudan when corporate mercenaries destroyed a village that refused to sell their land.

"We'll have one chance," she said, studying the pattern of charges. "The moment they detonate, before the dust settles. They'll expect us to be disoriented."

Jude nodded, already understanding. "But you've been through this before."

"Diplomatic protection isn't always about negotiation." Carmen checked the weapon Jude offered her with practiced ease. "Sometimes it's about surviving long enough to expose the truth."

Another camera died, then another. Their world shrank further and further as each security video feed went dark. Soon they would be operating blind, relying on instinct and experience to guide them through whatever came next.

"The corporate files," Carmen said suddenly. "The ones proving their connection to Nuevo Amanecer. I encrypted them on a secure server. If anything happens?—"

"Nothing's happening." Jude's voice carried clear conviction. "Nothing except us exposing every one of them."

The promise hung between them as the final security feed flickered static then winked out. In the darkness, Carmen felt Jude shift closer, their shoulders brushing with familiar comfort. Outside, their enemies prepared for the final assault. Inside, two women who'd dedicated their lives to different forms of protection found strength in each other.

A new explosion shook the walls, the biggest yet. Dust rained from the panic room’s ceiling as the safe house’s support structures groaned in protest. Their time had run out. They needed to make a move.

"Ready?" Jude asked, offering her hand.

Carmen took it, feeling calluses earned through years of combat press against her palm. "Always."

They moved toward the panic room door, positioning themselves for what would come next. In the darkness, Carmen felt nothing but certainty. They were survivors who'd faced death before and had emerged stronger.

This time would be no different.

Because this time, they had something worth any risk.