Page 106 of Under His Guard

I slowly stalk toward the exit, grabbing the large flashlight I brought with me as some kind of weapon.

A smell creeps in from somewhere, and I put my hand over my mouth. It’s vaguely sweet but not right; there’s something overly chemical about it.

Oh no.

Then my head starts to spin.

It’s slow, and I can track my surroundings still, like being on laughing gas.

As my heart rate skyrockets, panic taking me, I try to find something I can cover my mouth with.

I pull my scrubs top over it and my nose, but it won’t be enough. I know that much.

The Cobras have fucking found me, and I’ve got nothing but a flashlight and the extreme need to pass out.

I stumble to the ground, my hand only just catching me so I don’t smash my face right into the floor.

That’s when I see it. A small tube that’s been inserted through the minuscule gap beneath my door.

There’s some kind of gas filtering out of it, and my heart sinks.

I’m done for. There’s no fighting this.

The threat of death clarifies my mind, if only for a moment, and I try to see my phone.

But nothing makes sense right now, and the fear is too strong.

I’m going to die. These men are going to fucking kill me, and…

And all I want in the world is just to find Luke—to make this work with him, whatever it takes.

A low thud sounds by the door, the lock ripping from the poorly attached metal plate. Legs come in through the darkness, shoving the chair out of the way.

They close in on me, and all I can do is lie there. My eyelids flutter closed as the drugs seep into my system.

The last thing I hear is a whisper near my ear.

“Got you, bitch.”

Chapter 34

Luke

Sleep eventually came for me after a fucking terrible stomach ache and a migraine to match. I managed to even make it to my bed this time.

Still, I’m woken up by another nightmare. This one has nothing to do with the Marines.

It’s all about Clara.

Failing her, letting her mentor die, I can see it all, and my subconscious is having a field day with all of this fresh material.

I snag my phone from the nightstand. It’s only ten o’clock, so there’s no harm in getting up and entertaining myself with a movie until I get tired again.

Padding out to the living room, I swipe through to the internet on my cell, looking at the last tab I had open.

Therapists near me. Thinking about stopping drinking before that. Ugh, you are such a loser.

But as much as I hate Dom’s damn advice and how accurate it was, I want this with her.

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