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Once in the stairwell, we separate. Them going up, me and Logan going down. There’s a guard at the base of the stairs. Logan shoots him with no remorse.
These assholes took our girl and they will fucking pay with their lives.
Just as we open the door, the building rocks and shudders. Swift has joined the party. “Fucking psycho,” Logan mutters. “He’s not supposed to blow up the building until we’re out of it.”
I shake my head. “I think that was the one he was playing sniper from.”
“Distraction.”
“Distraction,” I confirm, stepping into the hall, gun at the ready. Logan is right on my tail, gun primed. Over our heads, there’s the sound of shouts, and the rapid repeat of gunfire. I swear I hear Swift’s maniacal laughter drifting down the stairs.
Four guards come barreling around the corner at the end of the hall, then freeze when they see us. Their mistake. We take them out in quick succession.
There’s the faint sound of an omega whine, a barely there whimper that just barely reaches my ears. “Sadie,” I say to Logan, taking off at a sprint, leaping over the fallen guards, and narrowly avoiding sliding on a puddle of blood.
Logan follows slower, taking the time to glance in the open doors, checking for our girl, being thorough, but I don’t have the patience for it. She’s farther down the hall. I can feel it.
When I round the corner, the hallway’s empty. No guards. No sounds of retreating footsteps, no more omega whines, just Logan’s harsh cry of, “here!” back the way I came. I ran right fucking by her.
A gunshot, far closer than any of the others we’ve heard, has me sprinting back, finding Logan in the doorway, shoulders set, gun raised. “You never should have touched her,” he says before he pulls his trigger.
A second later, he’s rushing into the room, and I’m right on his heels. My gaze sweeps the space, taking in the slumped body of Dr. Funkle on the ground, a neat bullet hole in his head. I have the brief thought that he should have suffered more before I’m taking in more of the room. Except for the dead man, it looks like every doctor’s office I’ve ever been in, and in the center of it all is our omega. My omega.
Relief hits so fucking hard when I set eyes on her. Strapped to a chair and pale as a fucking ghost, but seemingly unharmed. Her clothes are the same ones she was wearing when they took her from the penthouse and, although they’re rumpled, they aren’t covered in blood.
She’s sweating, writhing in pain.
Her scent is off, but that could be a side effect of whatever drugs they gave her. Whatever has her so out of it.
Logan hurries to her side, nimble fingers shaking slightly as he undoes the leather straps holding her to the chair before carefully removing the needle from her arm.
“We found her,” I murmur into my mic, following Logan farther into the room. “We’ve got her.”
“Thank fuck,” Maddox sighs.
“Is she okay?” Luca asks.
“Where?” Swift growls out.
“I don’t know if she’s okay,” I respond, ignoring Swift’s demand, watching as Logan does a quick examination of her, trying to figure out what’s wrong with her. “Is she drugged?”
He shakes his head. “No. It’s blood loss.”
I run my eyes over our girl again. She doesn’t look injured. There’s no puddle of blood under her. “Where is it?”
Logan jerks his chin at a nearby table and I see the neatly stacked blood bags next to a cooler.
“Sadie, mo chuisle,” Logan says, cupping her cheeks to keep her head from drooping. “Is that your blood?”
I don’t know a lot about how the human body functions, but I do know that four blood bags is too much blood. No wonder she’s pale. Her lips have lost all color. Our girl doesn’t answer, her glassy eyes looking around, like she’s trying to focus but can’t.
Logan leans forward, pressing his forehead to hers. “Please, baby, is that your blood?”
“I-I t-think s-so?” she says slowly, stumbling over the words, brow furrowed in concentration. “I-I’m s-sorry.”
“No, heartbreaker,” I move forward, bending over the chair she’s on, lacing my fingers through hers. “Not your fault. Rest, baby. We’ve got you.” Her eyes flutter closed. I look at Logan. “What do we do?”
He looks torn, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking know. She needs a hospital, but I’m not sure she’ll make it in time.”
