Tyler.
His voice pierces through the fog surrounding me.
An instant later the weight behind me vanishes.
The guard is ripped away so violently that I stumble forward.
Air tears into my lungs.
I cough hard as I clutch my throat. It feels raw.
Every breath scrapes as my knees threaten to buckle.
I turn just in time to see Tyler slam into the guard.
Pure fury radiates from him.
The kind reserved for moments when someone puts their hands on me.
The man doesn't have time to do more than register what's happening.
One minute he’s standing, the next he’s crashing into the concrete floor.
Tyler follows him down.
The guard scrambles for the knife that was in his hand.
Tyler easily kicks it away and it skitters into another puddle.
The guard dares to look Tyler straight on.
Tyler snatches him by the front of his shirt and hauls him partially off the ground.
The sky unleashes a torrent of rain, but Tyler’s voice cuts through the chaos, dark and lethal enough to eclipse the storm itself.
His teeth grind together, spit flying as he glares at the guard. “No one touches my wife,” he growls.
The guard’s face drains of all color as the reality of the situation hits him.
Tyler doesn’t give him a chance to respond.
He aims his Glock at the guard's stomach, right at the abdominal aorta and fires.
The guard clutches his stomach, gasping through the pain. He has maybe minutes left.
Tyler knew that and judging by the look on his face, that was his intention. He doesn’t move as he glares at the guard dying with his hands clenched into fists.
Then his gaze finds me and everything changes.
Lurking underneath the fury raging in his eyes is something infinitely more terrifying.
The understanding of how close he came to losing me and the promise that he’ll never let it happen again.
Within seconds, he’s standing in front of me and his hands find my face.
My shoulders, my throat, checking for injuries and making sure I’m still standing.
“I’m okay,” I rasp.
