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My eyes shift to Beau, who has turned red-rimmed, teary eyes towards the masked newcomers, and Noah’s words swim in my ears.
“There’s going to be a tragic house fire, killing every single occupant, courtesy of the cleaning crew Eduardo has dispatched from HSD.”
Tears fill my eyes when I realise he’s won.
This is it.
We’re going to die.
I choke on a sob.
And I’d only just begun to live.
A tear glides down my cheek when I set Mum by the backdoor, crouching to her level and begging her with my eyes to do as I ask.
“Press your hand to your forehead, Mum. And stay behind me.”
I stand, inching slowly back towards Summer and Jesse to shield them with my body, as if that will make any difference at this point. Yet I cling to hope while sending up a silent prayer to Ford.
Please keep her safe. Keep my little girl from harm, Ford.
My father lands on his back on the patio before us with a heavy thud when Noah gets the better of his much smaller opponent and throws him to the ground.
“For crying out loud, I thought you’d never get here.”
Noah’s smug tone hits my ears, and my eyes follow his path towards the occupants of the chopper when Jesse’s small whimper draws my attention.
Having been so fully intent on the horror unfolding before me, I was oblivious to the nightmare evolving at my back.
At my son’s cry, my gaze is immediately drawn to him, hunched over a pale, still Summer. A noise somewhere between a howl and a keen is ripped from my chest as my legs cease to work, making me stumble and fall to pieces beside her motionless body.
Jesse’s hands are painted in blood, covering what must be a gunshot wound. I crawl closer, falling to the paving several times when my arms refuse to hold me up, before straddling her legs. Tearing off my t-shirt with unsteady hands, I wad it into a ball as tears threaten to blind me before jerking my chin at Jesse.
He scrambles backwards, his face streaked in tears and chest rising and falling as rapidly as my own. My gut twists painfully as panic swells inside of me, threatening to swallow me whole.
Forcing myself to take a deep, steadying breath, I try to focus on what needs to be done.
You don’t get to fall apart just yet, North.
I press my t-shirt to the wound with my right hand, reaching my left out to grasp Jesse’s trembling, bloody hands. Despite my own, almost crippling fears, I squeeze his red, sticky fingers reassuringly before checking Summer’s pulse in her neck.
Jesse’s wide eyes are full of questions when he stares at me with one concern at the top of his list.
“She’s alive, kid. We just have to keep her that way and hope—”
A deep Texan drawl comes from the tallest newcomer, interrupting my sentence, and I twist my head to take in the scene before me.
“Noah Spellman?”
The man in question stops in his tracks, his eyes roving over each faceless person before him as his forehead puckers. “Those masks are not HSD regulated…” he trails off uncertainly before rallying and growling an order. “Remove themimmediately.”
The owner of the Texan accent removes his first, revealing a blonde buzzcut, a broad smirk, and a look of complete disdain. “Bull Salvatore. Elite Forces.”
I frown as my brain whirrs.
Where’s HSD?
Noah’s face drops as Bull turns to me, taking in Summer’s condition before calling behind him, “Medical assistance needed.Now!”
