She’s mine to protect.
I park in a heavily shrouded section of the gravel parking lot. The cars that transported the buyers here from the Skylark are parked up close, the buyers already inside the warehouse.
I unclip my holster and pull my gun free, then unlock the safety. I hear the decocker click to my right, Sadie prepared. She turns around to see Colton doing the same.
An unspoken countdown commences, and we exit the car on the beat of three and jog toward the warehouse.
The trill of crickets and brush of wind through the pines are the only sounds accompanying us as we advance. Once we’re in place, backs to the building, the faint muffle of voices bleeds through the metal wall.
The side roll door has been left open, and I motion in that direction. I lead us around the building, conscious of the gravel with each step. We stop every few feet and listen. Then proceed.
Halting near the metal beam of the roll door, I raise my hand, hold it steady, waiting for Carson’s signal.
The low voices inside die down, the warehouse stills. A creak of a door, then the distinct, distorted voice we heard during the auction. Carson doesn’t have to warn us; the Alpha is here.
I drop my hand.
We rush in.
There’s an ephemeral moment of dread, suspending time around me in a morbid limbo, until I lock on to Carson rushing Avery toward the side of the warehouse. Fractions of a second. Those split atoms of time can last an agonizing eternity.
I breathe. Time speeds up. Instinct kicks in.
I shout, “Hands in the air!”
My voice ricochets around the building. The echo bounces back at me before the chaos hits. “On the ground! On the ground!”
Several of the civilian buyers hit the floor, the others break out into a run. I drop to the floor. Sadie and Colton follow suit and hit the ground as the first bullet rings out.
I sight my gun on the perp opening fire and pull the trigger, taking out his calf. He drops and grabs his leg. I’m already locking on to the next perp before his scream recoils against the gunfire.
“Stop!”
And just as suddenly as the shooting began, it ends. The masked men pull back their weapons. My breathing ragged, I try to steady my breaths so I can hear past the ringing in my ears.
I scan the back of the warehouse and quickly assess the numbers. Nine suited men scattered against the ground and side of the warehouse. Four masked men: three standing guard around seven huddled women, one wounded on the floor. Carson and Avery are safely out of sight. Then one shadowed figure steps forward.
“Freeze!” I shout.
The person halts, but only a moment before they leisurely progress closer. “I’m unarmed,” he says. The voice is no longer obscure. “I’m sure we can work this out without any more bloodshed.”
“Tell your men to drop their weapons and kick them forward,” I order.
The man steps into the beam of moonlight streaming from outside. “You heard the officer,” he says. “Lower your weapons and kick them forward.”
His men do on command. The clatter of guns hitting the floor all in unison sets my jaw. As soon as the weapons are out of reach, I glance behind me, taking Sadie and Colton into account. They’re uninjured.
I get to one knee, keeping my gun aimed on the man in a black suit, and then rise to my feet. “You’re in charge of this operation?”
Hands held aloft, he maintains the smirk on his face. A face I’ve never seen before, but that could be any face in a crowd. His black hair is slicked back, neatly cropped. His gold jewelry glints in the moonlight. His smooth features denote youth, but he shows no fear of the gun pointed at his head.
“I am,” he says, his voice dropping low. “And I assume you’re the one in charge of your operation—” he nods to the three of us “—and I assume because you’re not backed by a task force or the FBI, then you’ve come here as part of your own agenda.”
My hand grips the gun tighter. My finger braced over the trigger.
I hear the decock of a gun; a bullet chambered. The click resounds loudly in the still room. It’s not my gun; it’s Sadie’s.
Now or never. If I don’t pull the trigger, she will.