Clay reaches back blindly and grabs my hand again.
Like he needs to know I’m still there.
My pulse stumbles hard.
Because I realize something terrifying in that moment.
If Clay dies protecting me—
It will destroy me.
The thought hits so suddenly and violently I almost stop breathing.
Then a new voice suddenly cuts through the gunfire outside.
Sharp.
Commanding.
Furious.
The militia outside immediately stop firing.
Silence crashes down almost instantly afterward.
Clay goes perfectly still above me.
Every muscle in his body tightens.
Dangerously.
“What is it?” I whisper.
His eyes stay locked on the loading dock entrance.
Cold now.
Deadly.
“That,” he says quietly, “sounds like the man in charge.”
16
Clay
The silence feels wrong.
Too sudden.
Too controlled.
One second the loading dock is a war zone.
The next—
Nothing.
No gunfire.
