23. Chapter 23
Jensen
I ’m behind Layla’s attackers in five seconds flat, grabbing a handful of both men’s shirts and flinging them into a stack of pallets.
“Thank God, Layla,” I breathe out, shackling her arms, ready to hug her just to prove to myself she’s real.
“Don’t touch me,” she hisses. “Stop chasing me.” Her eyes are wild, and she’s trembling.
“Layla, I’m not the enemy here.”
The sound of a gun cocking echoes through the open warehouse and high ceilings. Layla inhales sharply, and I don’t miss the difficulty that she has doing so.
“Get down on the ground, man, or I’ll shoot.” I rotate to find Mohawk guy pointing a Smith they’re tracking her, not me.
Before I can move, the soldiers drop to the floor like sawed-off trees, just hitting the ground with hard thumps.
“What the—?” I use my weapons to scan each unmoving soldier, then above, checking the pallets for another attack. At the same time, I nudge the leg of the nearest Zodius. Nothing. Totally limp. I lean down and check for a pulse, and find one. These fuckers are sleeping. What the hell?
I whirl around to Layla, one eye still on the soldiers, finding her standing against the wall, hands pressed to the concrete, accusation in her eyes.
“Why are you still standing, and they aren’t?” she demands.
“Why are we still standing, and they aren’t?” I counter.
“You…oh, God.” She curls forward, holding her stomach.
I close the space between us, bending down and taking her with me, cupping her face and forcing her gaze to mine. “I didn’t deceive you.”
She blinks up at me, her lashes fluttering. “I don’t know what to believe.”
My hand closes over hers, where it clutches the ICE. “You can trust me. I took bullets for you for a reason. I will not let you die.” I remove the vial from her palm and pop the seal before holding it near her mouth. “Drink.”
She hesitates and says, “If you betray me, I swear, I’ll kill you.” With that vow, her hand settles over mine, soft and trembling, and she helps me tilt it back so she can swallow.
I admire her so very much in this moment—her bravery, her intelligence, her fight.
She gasps as the liquid slides down her throat before curling forward again. “Please God, let it work quickly.”
I scoop her up in my arms and push to my feet. She’s done fighting me, snuggling close and leaning against my chest, her lashes lowering. She doesn’t fight, doesn’t ask where we’re going, doesn’t have any fight left in her. I go icy inside, and not from the drug. From the sheer terror that I’ve found her too late.
I start for the door, feeling her shaking intensify, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m shaking, too.
The End…