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Ghost spun. Weapon raised. “DOWN!”

He lunged toward me. I dropped instinctively. Another crack. A security light shattered above us. Glass rained across the path. Ghost grabbed my arm and dragged me behind the stone wall bordering the garden.

“Stay fucking down.”

My pulse exploded. “What was that?”

“I don’t know.”

His radio came up. “Shots fired. South garden. Shots fired.”

Static.

Nothing.

“Fuck.”

He pulled out his phone.

No signal.

Mine?

I looked down.

One bar.

Then none.

Ghost leaned around the wall. Scanning. Waiting. Nothing came. No third shot. No movement. No footsteps. Only darkness. Then somewhere farther along the estate—an alarm screamed.

A second alarm joined it.

Then another.

Blackthorn erupted.

Lights flared at the front of the house. Men shouted. A door slammed open. Ghost looked back. Only for a second. That was all.

I moved.

“Nyssa!”

I ran.

Not toward the sound.

Away.

My bad leg didn’t move fast enough. Pain tore through my bad leg. I kept going.

“NYSSA!”

Footsteps thundered behind me. Fast. Too fast. I knew he’d catch me. I stopped. Turned. Our eyes met. Then another alarms detonated from the opposite side of the grounds.

Ghost stopped. I heard him swear. He had a choice. Me. Or the breach. For one heartbeat, neither of us moved. Then his radio crackled alive. “GHOST—EAST WALL⁠—”

Rafe.