Chapter 43 Carter
Carter
The hallway smelled like dust and stale paint, but beneath it was something sharper—adrenaline, danger pressing in from every angle. My hand hovered near Harper’s back, not touching, but close enough to catch her if she stumbled.
River moved like a shadow at point, checking corners, his rifle steady. Gideon brought up the rear, eyes flicking to every door, every sound. The silence in the building was wrong. Too still.
We hit the stairwell. River signaled two fingers—down, fast. My pulse hammered, but my grip on the weapon stayed steady. Harper was breathing hard behind me, but she kept pace, her eyes wide, sharp.
Good girl.
We descended, boots whisper-quiet against concrete. On the second landing, a noise cut through the stillness—boots on tile, faint but unmistakable. My fist shot up, stopping the team in an instant.
“Contact,” River mouthed.
My jaw clenched. They’d gotten inside already.
I turned, meeting Harper’s eyes. She was pale, but she didn’t flinch. My hand closed over hers for a heartbeat—enough to anchor us both—before I pressed a finger to my lips and shifted her behind me.
The first figure appeared at the bottom of the stairwell, masked, weapon drawn. Too slow. I fired once, the round dropping him before he cleared his aim. His body hit the ground with a thud that echoed through the stairwell.
More footsteps thundered from below.
“Move!” I barked, shoving Harper into River’s path. “Get her out!”
“I’ve got rear,” Gideon snapped, pivoting to cover the top.
River grabbed Harper’s arm, pulling her down the next flight, his body shielding hers. My chest burned as I followed, firing at shadows, at the shapes emerging from the dark.
Every shot, every order, every breath boiled down to one thing—keep her alive.
And as the stairwell filled with gunfire and shouts, I knew this was just the beginning.
They’d marked her.
Now they’d have to get through me to finish it.