Chapter 29 Under Fire
Lila
My scream rips out, a raw sound shredded by roaring flames and a storm of bullets. The world is a dizzying kaleidoscope of flashing lights—the inferno of Ethan’s SUV, the blinding headlights of our attackers, the staccato muzzle flashes spitting death in our direction. Ryker’s arms are a vice around me, his body a shield, but I still feel the percussive thump-thump-thump of rounds slamming into our vehicle.
Theo is already halfway out the door, a silhouette against the terrifying orange glow, his anguished roars for Ethan barely audible. Bastian barks his name, a command lost in the onslaught.
"Stay down!" Ryker growls, his voice vibrating against my ear. He shoves me lower onto the seat, his own body arching over mine. His one hand still grips me, but with the other, even as he draws his own weapon, he thrusts a small, cold handgun into my lap, a compact Sig. "Know you don't like 'em, Baby Girl," he grits out, his eyes fierce, "but just in case. Point and shoot. Don't hesitate." Then his focus is entirely on the threat outside, his body a formidable barrier over me.
Fear, cold and biting, claws its way up my throat, choking me. Just moments ago, a flicker of safety, of hope, warmed me. Now? Now it’s this. Kolya’s face swims before my eyes, a sneering phantom, and for a horrifying second, I’m back in his clutches, the world ending around me.
No. The thought is a tiny, defiant spark. I killed him. I survived him. The weight of the gun in my lap is a terrifying, solid reality.
But Ethan…
I crane my neck, desperate to see past Ryker. The burning SUV is a twisted pyre. How could anyone survive that? My heart splinters. Ethan. They came for me, and now he’s trapped in that inferno.
The SUV lurches violently as Grim wrestles with the wheel, using our vehicle as cover. Sparks fly as lead ricochets off the metal, each impact a hammer blow against my sanity. My fingers instinctively close around the unfamiliar grip of the Sig.
Ryker
Fucking hell. Fucking. Hell.
My world narrows: threats and targets. Nothing else. Ethan’s car blowing sky-high is a gut punch, a fist closing around my heart. But there’s no time for worry or grief, no time for anything but action. Theo’s a raw nerve, half out the door, a perfect target.
"Theo, goddammit, get back in!" I roar, shoving Lila down and angling my body to cover her, my Sig already in hand. "Grim, give us cover! Bastian, right side!"
"Covering!" Bastian snaps, already returning fire, his shots precise even as our SUV rocks.
These are Kolya’s men, no doubt, his elite. The attack is professionally, coordinated. They knew the route we would take, knew where to set the IED. He had a contingency for everything, damn him. They’re boxing us in, using the burning wreck of Ethan’s SUV as an anchor point for their ambush.
"They’re trying to flush us out, get us pinned between the wreck and their vehicles!" Grim shouts over the noise, the SUV groaning as he slides it sideways, putting the engine block between us and the heaviest fire. "We can't stay here!"
"No shit!" I yell back. My gaze locks on the inferno where Ethan's SUV crashed. He could be dead. Or worse, alive and burning. I feel utterly murderous. I owe him. We all owe him.
"Theo, on me!" I bark, making a split-second decision. "Bastian, Grim, suppressive fire! Cover our approach to the wreck! Lila, stay the fuck down, get into the footwell, don’t move, don’t make a sound!"
Her eyes, wide and terrified, meet mine. A tremor shakes her small body, but she nods, pressing herself into the footwell. Good girl.
Theo scrambles back slightly, his face a mask of anguish and fury. "Ethan…"
"We are getting him out," I say, my voice a low growl. "Dead or alive. Now move !"
I kick open my door, the metal groaning in protest. Hot air and the acrid smell of burning fuel, rubber, and something sickeningly metallic wash over me. Rounds crack overhead, uncomfortably close. I hit the ground, rolling, taking cover behind our battered SUV. Theo tumbles out beside me, gun already blazing.
Lila
Ryker and Theo are gone, disappearing into the maelstrom of gunfire and smoke. My breath hitches. Bastian is leaning out his window, firing methodically. Grim has somehow managed to angle the SUV to provide a sliver of cover for them, but rounds still thud into our vehicle with terrifying regularity.
I press myself against the footwell, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. The baby. The thought is a fresh wave of terror. I can’t lose them. I can’t lose Ethan . But I'm useless, trapped, a liability, as the inferno rages. My eyes are fixed on the burning SUV. A part of me screams to run, to hide, but another, fiercer part, the part that found strength with these men, aches to help. Ryker’s words echo: Stay the fuck down.
Heart hammering, I see Ryker and Theo dart between pockets of shadow and fleeting cover, moving towards Ethan's car. They move like wraiths, deadly and focused, but the sheer volume of incoming fire is overwhelming. How can they possibly reach it?
Suddenly, a new, heavier staccato joins the fight. Grim is out of the driver’s seat, a heavy-duty assault rifle already barking in his hands. Then, with a practiced, almost casual motion, he slings it over his shoulder and from a compartment at his feet, produces a short-barreled grenade launcher. He stands like a fucking mountain, unmovable, aiming the launcher with deadly calm. The thump-CRUMP of a grenade exploding among the attackers’ vehicles echoes a moment later, briefly silencing some of their fire and drawing their immediate, panicked attention.
It gives Ryker and Theo precious seconds.
Ryker
Grim’s covering fire and the chaos from his grenades are a godsend; it buys us the critical window we need to get to Ethan's SUV.
"Go, Theo, go!" I yell, shoving him forward. We sprint, low and fast, towards the wreckage. The heat is biblical, scorching my skin even through my clothes. The rear half of the SUV is an inferno, flames greedily consuming the metal, sending plumes of acrid black smoke into the night. The fire is spreading, licking its way towards the front, but the front cabin, for now, is mostly just choked with that thick smoke.
The driver's side is a mangled mess, crushed against a thick pine tree, the flames already starting to creep closer to it. "Ethan!" Theo screams, clawing at the buckled door. It won’t budge.
"The passenger side!" I shout, circling towards the less engulfed front end. Lead chews the dirt around us, kicking up bark. The attackers are shifting their fire, trying to pin us down here .
The passenger door is partially open, jammed against the ground from the rollover. Smoke pours from the cabin, thick and black. It's not on fire in here yet, but the intense heat from the rear radiates through the metal. "Ethan! Can you hear me, man?!" I yell, coughing as the smoke burns my lungs.
A choked groan answers from inside. He’s alive. Relief, fierce and jolting, cuts through me, immediately followed by the desperate urgency to get him out .
"He's in there!" Theo is already trying to shoulder the door further open, grunting with the effort. "Help me!"
I join him, bracing myself against the hot metal of the doorframe, it’s already almost too hot to touch. Together, we heave. The door groans, bends, then rips partially free with a screech of tortured steel. Dark, oily smoke billows out, making my eyes water.
And there he is. Ethan.
He’s slumped against the deployed airbag, blood matting his dark hair, a horrifying gash across his forehead. His left arm is twisted at an unnatural angle, and a dark, rapidly spreading stain of blood blooms over his tactical vest on his right side, near his ribs. His face is pale, his breathing shallow and ragged. But his eyes, those ice-gray eyes, flutter open, trying to focus.
"Geez… you guys… were slow," he rasps, a bloody smirk attempting to form on his lips.
Fucking Mercer. Still a wiseass.
"Save the jokes for later, pretty boy," I grunt, reaching in. "We gotta move. Now." The smell of gasoline is overwhelming. The fire is closing in; this whole thing could become a fireball any second.
Theo is already unbuckling Ethan’s harness, his movements frantic but surprisingly gentle. "I got his legs," he says, his voice thick with emotion.
"I’ve got his torso. On three. One… two… THREE!"
We pull. Ethan cries out, a raw, pain-filled sound that tears through me, as we drag him through the narrow opening. His body is limp, heavy deadweight. The heat from the flames is intensifying, searing us.
More bullets slam into the wreckage near us, closer this time. They know we’re exposed.
"Bastian! Grim! We need covering fire! We’re moving him NOW!" I roar into my comm, hoping they can hear me over the gunfire.
Lila
"They have him!" Bastian’s voice is tight with relief, but strained. He’s still firing, but the attackers are pressing their advantage, trying to advance. "Ryker, Theo, get back here! Grim, lay it down!"
The assault rifle barks again, a relentless staccato. From my position, Ryker and Theo are half-carrying, half-dragging Ethan’s limp form away from the burning wreck. Ethan. He’s alive. Oh, thank God. But he looks… bad. So bad. Even from this distance, the blood, the unnatural way he’s being moved… My gaze snags on the dark, spreading stain on his side, and a fresh wave of terror, cold and sharp, washes over me.
They’re exposed. So terribly exposed. A group of three figures breaks from the tree line on the far side, trying to get a clear shot at them.
"Ryker! Nine o’clock!" Bastian yells, shifting his fire.
"Lila, get down and stay down!" Bastian shouts at me without looking, then he’s out of the SUV too, moving with Grim to create a wider field of fire, to draw the attackers away from Ryker, Theo, and Ethan.
My heart is in my throat. They’re all out there now. All of them, fighting. For Ethan. For each other. For me . I press myself lower, but my eyes dart around, scanning for any threat they might miss. The Sig Ryker pressed into my hand earlier feels heavy, cold, and impossibly powerful in my trembling grip. Point and shoot. Don't hesitate.
Terror and a desperate, aching admiration war within me as Ryker and Theo inch their way back, dragging Ethan through the dirt and debris, while Grim and Bastian fight like demons to keep the enemy at bay.
Grim’s grenade launcher thumps again, followed by a satisfying CRUMP and a shower of debris as another enemy position is obliterated. For a precious moment, the gunfire lessens, the enemy momentarily stunned by the blast.
"Now! Move it!" Bastian’s voice cuts through.
Ryker and Theo use the opening, covering the last few yards to our battered SUV. They heave Ethan into the backseat, onto the space beside me where Bastian had been. Ryker scrambles in after him, his body immediately covering Ethan’s, shielding him further. Theo dives into the front passenger seat.
Bastian is still outside, laying down covering fire as Grim sprints back to the driver's side. Suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I see movement, a lone figure, using the chaos as cover, materializing from the shadows of the dense trees, weapon raised, closing in on Bastian’s exposed back.
Time slows. Bastian is focused forward, completely unaware. There's no time to shout a warning. A cold, clear certainty crystallizes amidst the chaos. This is not about being a victim anymore. This is about them. About protecting the men who protect me, protecting the life growing inside me. The lessons , Ryker’s brutal pragmatism with a knife, Bastian’s calm instruction with the stun gun, Ethan’s patient guidance with the security system, they aren't just abstract knowledge anymore. They are tools.
Instinct, sharp and fierce, takes over. The Sig is up, my hands surprisingly steady despite the adrenaline thrumming through me. My focus narrows to the front sight, aligning it deliberately with the center mass of the advancing attacker, just as I’ve seen them do countless times in training vids, just as Bastian had quietly talked me through on the range that one afternoon when I’d finally agreed to learn. Controlled breath. Squeeze, don’t pull. I squeeze the trigger.
The recoil jolts my arm, shoving my shoulder back, the sound deafening in the confined space of the car. But through the flash, I see the attacker stumble, a dark stain blossoming on his chest. His own weapon clatters uselessly to the ground before he collapses.
Bastian whirls around, gun up, his eyes wide for a split second before they land on me, then the downed man. His expression shifts rapidly from shock to comprehension, then to something akin to fierce, surprised approval. "Good shot, Little One!" he yells over the din, giving a curt, decisive nod before turning back to unleash another volley at the two remaining attackers closing in. Grim, having reached the driver's door, also opens fire, his heavy rifle spitting death. My breath shudders out. I actually did it. My hands are shaking now, reaction setting in, but a small, fierce warmth spreads through my chest. Not useless. Not anymore.
"They're trying to box us in!" Grim shouts, pulling open his door but not yet getting in. "If we run now with Ethan like this, we're targets!"
Bastian, still partially exposed, nods curtly, his jaw tight as he reloads. "He's right! We make our stand here! Finish them!" he roars, his voice a commander’s bark that cuts through the gunfire. "Ryker! Theo! Create a perimeter! We end this NOW!"
Grim is already using the driver's side door as cover, laying down suppressing fire.
Ryker
Ethan groans beside me, his breath hitching. He's bleeding too much. The dark stain on his vest is spreading at an alarming rate. I’m already ripping open the med kit, my hands slick with his warm, sticky blood before I even get the trauma shears out. Head wound, possible concussion, broken arm for sure. But the wound to the side… it’s deep, and it’s likely arterial, I’d bet my life on it. "We need a doctor, now!" I shout, my voice raw with a desperate urgency as I try to shove combat gauze into the wound, applying as much direct pressure as I physically can.
Through the open doorway, I hear Grim yell about being boxed in, then Bastian’s decisive command: "Finish them! Ryker! Theo! Create a perimeter! We end this NOW!"
My blood sings. Bastian’s right. Running now means they hunt us, pick us off, and Ethan won't survive a prolonged chase in this condition. We have the element of surprise if they think we're still trying to flee from the primary ambush point.
"Theo, you good to cover the rear?" I ask, my voice hard. Theo, his face pale but eyes blazing with a cold fury I’ve never seen in him, nods sharply. "They hurt my brother. They will fucking die ."
"That's the spirit," Bastian yells from outside, already moving to a better firing position alongside Grim. Then his voice, still a commander's bark, cuts through the air towards the SUV interior, "Lila, get on the floor, between the seats. Stay there! Keep that Sig handy, just in case!"
I look at Lila, her eyes wide but carrying a new resolve. I press a thick wad of gauze from the med kit harder onto Ethan’s bleeding side. "Baby Girl, keep pressure on this for him, hard as you can. Press like his life depends on it, because it fucking does. And stay down, no matter what you hear. You got this?"
"Don't you dare get hurt," she whispers, fierce, her small hands immediately covering mine over the gauze, then taking over the pressure as I withdraw. "I've got him. Go."
A surge of pride, fierce and hot, courses through me. She’s terrified but she’s not breaking. "Wouldn't dream of it," I say, giving her hand a quick squeeze over Ethan's. Then, with Theo already moving to exit from his side, I launch myself out of the SUV, ready to bring the fight to them.
The doors fly open fully. Bastian, Theo, Grim and I pour out, fanning into pre-determined positions. Grim joins us on foot properly now, his heavy rifle barking again. It’s a ballet of bullets and death, honed by years of shared combat.
They’re surprised. We’re not running; we’re attacking. Their coordinated assault falters. One SUV tries to flank us. Theo, with ice-cold precision, takes out the driver. The vehicle careens into a tree. Two men charge on foot from the darkness. I drop one, Bastian gets the other.
Grim lets out a roar, advancing. Another grenade thumps from his launcher, turning a clump of attackers behind a disabled vehicle into a cloud of smoke and screams. He follows it up with a sustained burst from his rifle, cutting down anyone who tries to scatter. Bastian moves with him, a deadly shadow, his shots methodical, each one finding its mark. They work in tandem, an unstoppable force of destruction, systematically eliminating every remaining threat.
It’s brutal. Swift. We move like a well-oiled killing machine, covering each other, advancing. Kolya sent his best; they weren't good enough. They came for a hunt; they found a hornet’s nest.
In minutes that feel like an eternity, it’s over. Silence descends, broken only by the crackle of Ethan's burning SUV, the fading groans of dying men, and our own harsh breathing. Grim walks the perimeter, a final grenade punctuation mark ending a last twitch of movement from the wreckage of an enemy SUV.
"Clear!" Bastian calls out, his voice ragged. "Clear!" Theo confirms, kicking a weapon away from a downed enemy. "All clear," Grim adds, his voice a low rumble as he reloads. "No one's following us from this party."
I walk through the carnage, making sure. Three vehicles disabled. Seven tangos down. No more threats. From this crew, anyway. "It's done," I say, rejoining them at our SUV.
Lila
The furious barrage of gunfire outside had been terrifying. But I pressed to the floor, my hands aching, slippery with Ethan's blood from the constant, desperate pressure I kept on the blood-soaked gauze against his side. Each gunshot, each explosion had sent a fresh wave of terror through me, not just for myself, but for him, for the fragile life I was desperately trying to hold onto.
Then, silence. A heavy, ringing silence, broken only by Ethan's shallow, rattling breaths beside me. I leaned closer to him, my lips near his ear, oblivious to the stickiness of his blood on my skin, on my clothes. "Ethan," I whispered, my voice cracking, tears blurring my vision as I pressed harder on the wound. "You have to live, do you hear me? You have to. I love you. And… and you have to meet our baby. You have to." A faint sigh, a slight shift of his head against the seat. I looked at his face, so pale, eyes still closed. Then, slowly, his eyelids fluttered. His gaze, hazy with pain, found mine, and the corner of his lips, chapped and bloodied, quirked upwards in the faintest, weakest smile. It was enough.
The door opens. Ryker stands there, backlit by the distant flames. He’s covered in dirt, sweat, and what I know is blood that isn't his. He looks like a warrior god, terrible and beautiful. "It's safe now, Lila."
Bastian helps me up. My legs are shaky. My hands come away from Ethan sticky and red, but the smile he gave me is branded on my heart. Theo is leaning against the SUV, his chest heaving, but the cold fury in his eyes has been replaced by a grim satisfaction. Grim is reloading, a silent, imposing sentinel.
Ethan groans from the backseat, his face contorted in pain as Ryker immediately moves to check on him, but the weak smile he’d given me moments before is a tiny beacon of hope. The reality crashes back. They won the fight. They annihilated Kolya's ambush. But Ethan…
"He's fading fast, Bas," Ryker says, his voice tight with urgency, his hands already working to apply a pressure on a fresh bandage over the now completely saturated one I’d held, barking orders for more gauze, for someone to find the damn quick-clot. "You need to call Dr. Evans now. Tell him to meet us at Safe House on Mark Street. He'll need his team and a full surgical setup. Ethan doesn't have time for a hospital transfer."
Bastian nods, his expression grim as he pulls out his satellite phone. "Grim, get us to Mark Street. Everyone else, secure your gear." He’s already dialing. "Evans? It's Cross. Code Red. Ethan's down. Massive wound to the right torso, probable arterial bleed, massive blood loss, signs of shock. We're en-route to Mark Street, ETA fifteen. Need you ready for immediate surgical intervention." His voice is clipped, professional, but the underlying strain is unmistakable. "We'll deal with the 'who' and 'why' of them knowing our route later. Right now, Ethan's all that matters."
Grim is already behind the wheel, the engine rumbling to life. The atmosphere thick with adrenaline, exhaustion, and the metallic tang of blood. The phone is pressed to Bastian’s ear as he relays vitals Ryker calls out, Ethan’s pulse weak and thready, his breathing dangerously shallow.
As we speed away from the scene of chaos and death, leaving behind the burning vehicles and the bodies of Kolya's slaughtered men, one thought consumes me. They fought off a coordinated ambush, eliminated a squad of trained killers, all while one of their own was bleeding out. These weren't just men. They were a force of nature. And tonight, in a small, terrifying way, I’d been part of that storm.
And Ethan, pale and groaning beside me, his life hanging by a thread, was the reason they’d unleashed it.