Page 30 of His to Keep

And god help any man who touches what's mine.

Chapter twelve

Liam's heart pounded a relentless rhythm as he surged through the empty hospital rooms. The usual hum of activity had vanished, leaving only an unsettling stillness in its wake. The armed response lockdown had transformed the once-bustling corridors into a chilling maze of desolation.

His breaths tore from him in rapid bursts, each gasp of air fueling his desperate sprint.

A t-junction was coming up. Breathless, Liam tried to think.

Left? Or right?

The gunman was still chasing him, those bootsteps echoing off the walls. The man was fast — but Liam knew these hallways. He'd managed to stay ahead of him, jinking around corners and throwing himself down staircases.

Which way had more people? Liam couldn't lead the relentless gunman to anyone else, couldn't put innocent lives at risk. He tried to remember the layout of this floor…

Ah. The hallway that went to the left had its fair share of patients… but they wouldn't exactly be in danger.

Liam's heart thudded with every step, and he veered towards the one place that he expected to be devoid of life — the morgue.

The thought of hiding among the dead sent a shiver down his spine, but it was a risk he had to take. Liam's breaths came in ragged gasps as he sprinted, his chest burning with the effort.

He wasn't made for this. He didn't know what to do besides to run, leading the gunman away from Rowan and Eli and everyone else.

Colt would know what to do…

But Colt wasn't here. Liam had walked away from him — and from the strange bond between them. They were too different. They'd just been thrown together by accident. It had all been temporary, some strange little encounter without a future.

Now, with death on his heels, all of those reasons didn't seem to matter at all.

Liam wanted Colt. Heneededhim.

Liam sprinted through the doors of the morgue, his shoes skidding on the slick, mopped floor. The burning ache in his lungs was at a fever pitch, a painful burn that matched his legs. He couldn't keep up this relentless pace.

This was it. This was as far as he could go.

Desperate, Liam flung himself behind an equipment cupboard, his body trembling. He pressed as close to the cold, metallic surface as humanly possible.

Seconds ticked by like an eternity, and then came the ominous creak of the morgue doors swinging open.

A shiver of dread tore through Liam's core as the gunman made his entrance.

His heart hammered relentlessly against his ribcage, his fear threatening to consume him. This was the moment he'd dreaded, the moment where he had nowhere left to run.

But he'd done the best he could. He'd been helpful.

He'd always been good at that, putting others first.

A shadow moved across the wall. It drew nearer, each bootstrap a heavy thud that reverberated through the morgue.

Liam's mind raced, exhausted.There has to be something! Think, think…

His eyes locked onto the fire extinguisher hanging nearby. It was a desperate gamble, his only shot at survival.

He held his breath — and then he lunged for it, ripping it from the wall mount and pulling the pin all in one movement.Thank you, mandatory emergency training!In a quick swing, he unleashed a blinding, freezing mist that engulfed the hitman.

The hitman stumbled backward, cursing and choking, his composure momentarily shattered—

But he was no amateur. Half-blind or not, he lunged forward through the swirling mist, seizing Liam's wrist in an iron grip.

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