Chapter 31
The crackle of my comms on the nightstand drags me violently out of my sleep, years of conditioning instantly clicking into place. Trying not to disturb Mackenzi, who is sleeping soundly nuzzled under my arm, I reach blindly for the nightstand before my eyes have adjusted to the dark room.
My pulse accelerates as I shove the earpiece into place. Static hisses for a second before, “Perimeter breach,” an unfamiliar, and very panicked, man gasps. “Perimeter breach. Perimeter breach?—”
Every muscle in my body tenses at once, and adrenaline detonates through my bloodstream so fast, it’s almost nauseating.
Beside me, Mackenzi stirs against the mattress, making a soft grumble of confusion as I throw the blankets back. “Mackenzi,” I bark roughly, throwing my legs over the side of the bed. “Trouble, you need to get up.”
She groans quietly, still half asleep. “What?”
I’m off the bed before she finishes the word, ensuring her room is secure as I fumble to find yesterday’s pants on the floor.
“I’m not fucking playing,” I snap with a harsher tone. “Get up.”
I hear the acceleration of her breathing before I even turn to look at her, the gruffness of my tone getting her attention. When I do, she’s pushing upright in bed, sleep giving way to alarm with fear flickering across her face.
Good, because right now I want her afraid. Fear keeps people alive.
“What happened?” she whispers.
Another burst of static crackles through the comms, and outside, muffled shouting erupts, followed quickly by a gunshot. It’s close enough to reverberate through the house. Too fucking close. Mackenzi flinches violently as a second one rings out.
Fuck.
I cross the room in two strides, grabbing my shirt off the floor before crouching in front of her. My movements are fast and efficient. “Arms up.”
She obeys instantly, trembling as I yank the shirt over her head. Her eyes are wide and filled with terror. I hate every second of this. My hands catch briefly on her waist as I tug the shirt over her thighs, and I hold her for a second before forcing my focus to where it belongs.
Protect her.
At all costs.
I pull the earpiece from the nightstand and place it carefully into her shaking hand.
“Put this in.” Unfamiliar with the equipment, she fumbles slightly, and I help her put it into her ear, ensuring it’s in place.
I switch channels quickly, isolating us on a private frequency before gripping her gently but firmly by the back of the neck.
“Listen to me very carefully. I need you to do exactly as I say. Understand.”
Her breathing becomes even more uneven as she nods her response.
I guide her quickly across the bedroom to the walk-in closet, shoving her clothes aside to make room for her in the back corner.
“I need you to stay right here, in this spot. No matter what you hear.”
“Damon—”
“Now, Mackenzi,” I bark, and she obeys immediately, dropping to the floor and curling her knees up to her chest.
That’s my good girl.
I crouch in front of her to get down to her eye level. “Stay here. You can talk to me if it’s an emergency. Just put two fingers on the earpiece”—I mimic the motion—“and I’ll hear you.”
Tears gather in her eyes as I quickly give her the instructions, and it takes everything I have not to give her what I know she really needs right now.
I cup her face hard enough to force her attention onto me. “Do not come out for anyone except me or Gunnar. Understood?” She nods quickly between my palms.
Another gunshot echoes from downstairs, and Mackenzi visibly tenses, panic flashing across her face as she grabs my wrist. “Don’t leave me.”
Her words nearly fucking destroy me, and for one impossible second, instinct screams at me to stay.
I could barricade the door and hold her in my arms, let someone else handle the threat downstairs.
But I know better. If this house is compromised, I can’t trap us in one room like sitting targets.
And I sure as fuck can’t drag her barefoot and unarmed through an active breach.
I lean forward and press one fast, hard kiss against her mouth. “I have to go help,” I murmur against her lips. “But I swear on my life, I will come back for you.” A rogue tear runs down her cheek, and I wipe it away with my thumb before promising, “And I will not let anyone get to you.”
As much as it pains me, I leave her in the closet and shut the door before she can see my concern. I let go of the knob and turn on my heel, morphing into an entirely different man.
Alarm lights pulse a dim red through the residence hallways, and another burst of gunfire rattles through the embassy wing.
Unarmed, I sprint down the staircase two steps at a time, my pulse hammering in my ears so loudly, it’s almost painful.
I reach the landing without incident, race down the hall, and shove the command center doors open.
Rows of monitors washed the darkened space in cold blue light, security feeds flickering from every wing of the residence strobed by emergency lights.
I scan them quickly, immediately finding how bad it really is.
There’s a Marine collapsed against the north wall with a hand clamped over his shoulder, blood spills from between his fingers.
Gunnar is moving through the west wing, a rifle in his hands, sweeping corners methodically as a small team of Marines follows behind him.
I grab the comms off the charger on the table and clip it to the waistband of my pants, shove the earpiece into place, and head straight for the biometric gun safe in the far corner.
After slamming my thumb against the sensor, the safe clicks open.
Inside sits enough weaponry to start a small war.
Or protect Mackenzi. I grab a sidearm first—a suppressed 9mm—and strap it to my thigh with a holster before reaching for a M4 rifle and confirming it has a full magazine.
The cold steel settles into my hands like it is an extension of my body—familiar, reliable, and deadly.
After reaching for the comms at my waist, I flip it to the private channel I put Mackenzi on. “You’re being so fucking brave,” I praise, quietly chambering a round.
There is a slight pause before she answers, her voice trembling, “I’m scared.”
Her fear guts me. “I know, trouble.”
God, I fucking know.
I can practically picture her, curled up inside that closet, trying not to cry. The thought alone sharpens my intent to lethal levels as I flip back to the public channel. “Breach update?”
Gunfire cracks loudly through someone’s mic before Gunnar answers, “Three men down. Two jumped the north wall.” His voice is clipped and calm beneath the chaos. “Just entered the west wing.”
West wing.
Fuck.
That puts them far closer to Mackenzi than I am remotely comfortable with. “I’m moving from the east,” I bark, already rushing through the residence corridor. “Sweeping first floor.”
“Copy.”
I switch back to Mackenzi’s private channel. “You still with me?”
“Yes.” Her voice is tiny.
“You’re doing good, trouble.”
I move quickly through the eastern corridor, rifle raised as embassy alarms continue flashing crimson across the walls. Every instinct I’ve spent years honing sharpens from the adrenaline coursing through my veins, every shadow becomes a potential threat.
A shadow flashes against the wall beside me, and I pivot as a man emerges from the darkness near the rear stairwell. He’s carrying a semi-automatic rifle and wearing black tactical gear with no visible insignia. Not embassy security. Not an amateur, either.
He raises his weapon, and I fire once, the rifle in my hand recoiling against my shoulder as the sound of it firing echoes deafeningly loud in the confined space.
The round tears through his shoulder and slams him into the stairwell with a scream as he drops his rifle.
I sprint toward him, crossing the distance in seconds, before kicking his weapon away.
It skids across the marble floor as I drive into him hard enough to cause him to crash to the floor on his back.
“Kill me,” he spits with a Colombian accent as blood pools rapidly beneath him. “More of us will?—”
I jam the rifle muzzle hard into his chest. “You stupid fucks. He’s not even here.”
The man just laughs harder, despite the blood running from the corner of his mouth. “This was never about him.”
A chill zips down my spine, so cold that my blood turns to ice. “What?”
A terrifying grin pulls at the corners of his lips. “We don’t want him,” he rasps. “We never did.”
My stomach drops instantly. No.
As if he can read my thoughts, the man’s blood-slick smile widens.
“Aja, we want the girl.”
My world spins out of control and stops moving in the same millisecond, my entire body going cold.
Mackenzi.
Upstairs, alone.
Jesus fucking Christ.
The man starts laughing again, and I fire once, a round directly through his chest, killing him instantly. My feet move before the reverberation stops resounding in my ears, needing to get to her.
“Daddy…” Mackenzi’s fragile voice crackles in the earpiece, barely audible above the ringing. “There’s someone here.”
Pure panic detonates in my chest, my heart hammering so loud against my ribs it drowns out the thud of my feet against the floor.
“I’m coming, trouble,” I choke out, sprinting full speed through the corridor. “Daddy’s coming.”
I switch channels as I run. “Mackenzi!” I roar into the public line.
Gunnar’s voice explodes through my earpiece. “What?”
“They’re after Mackenzi!”
I take the stairs three at a time, my bare feet slamming painfully hard against the marble as every instinct inside me screams that I’m going too fucking slow.
“Mackenzi! Talk to me!” I shout into the private channel desperately. My heart nearly stops when I don’t get a response. “Mackenzi!”
A door crashes open upstairs, but momentary relief washes over me when it is followed by the sound of her crying in my ear. “I can hear them. They’re outside my room,” she whispers brokenly.
“Daddy’s almost there.”
Rage hits me with the force of a physical blow. I traverse the second floor in a dead sprint, rifle raised. The residence corridor stretches ahead of me in dim emergency lighting. A man—tall and armed—crosses the hall and reaches for the handle of Mackenzi’s bedroom door.
I follow behind him, knowing only one of us is leaving this room alive.
At all costs…