HUNTER

In my head, I'm screaming. As soon as the SUV is struck, the world gets very loud. The airbags deploy, throwing my head back.

I'm stunned by the impact. Outside the SUV, car horns blare. I hear Atticus calling my name. I turn toward him. Our eyes meet. He looks so relieved to see me alive. I think I say his name.

Turning my head toward my window, I see Tack. My mind sharpens at the sight of him. He looks unharmed, only worried. We're going to be okay.

I hear a shot, and Tack drops out of view. I think I cry out. My hand goes to the door handle. I want to help him. We can escape together.

Atticus says my name. I hear him telling me to keep the door locked. I should stay inside where he can protect me.

I turn away from where Tack disappeared and look at the head of my family's security. Atticus doesn't care if Tack lives or dies, but I do. I need to make him understand.

Before I can speak, the front glass shatters, and Atticus is torn apart by bullets. Hot liquid splashes on me. Everything stubborn inside me drains away like Atticus's life.

Someone frees me from the SUV. I nearly drop to my knees once I'm pulled out. My body feels weird. Am I in shock? I don't feel pain as much as boneless.

Around me, the air smells like blood and smoking vehicles. The hovering chopper blades send dirt in the air, making my eyes burn. I glance around, searching for Tack's body. He isn't on the ground. Or he is, but I can't spot him past the chaos.

I turn my head slightly to see a stranger wearing a skeleton-style tactical mask. Another one with a beige version of the same mask stands on my left side. They hold me under the armpits to keep me upright.

The next few minutes are a blur. I feel a growing panic at how I'm being moved to another vehicle. Though I need to fight, I can't move my body in any real way.

I feel the man on my right release me. The remaining one struggles to keep me on my feet. As soon as he lets go, I drop to the hot asphalt. Only then do I spot Tack with a gun in his hand. He's alive!

I want to run to him, but my legs won't lift me. The noise drowns out my ability to focus.

My gaze scans my surroundings, trying to understand where I am in relation to everyone else.

Suddenly, Tack is in front of me. His proximity awakens a part of me hiding since I saw him shot. Tack lifts me to my feet, and I'm steadier now.

Before I become too hopeful, the day somehow gets louder. Bullets zip back and forth between the attackers and Backcountry Kings.

I want to run. Instead, I can only scream.

Tack and Indigo use their bodies to protect me. I think I understand what's happening. How if the mercenaries shoot Tack and Indigo, they risk killing their target. They need me alive if they want to get paid.

The sound of rumbling motorcycles joins the chaotic day. The gunfire seems to shift gears. I feel like the attackers are aiming in a different direction.

Suddenly, Tack grabs me by the arm and begins running. I nearly trip over my feet to keep up with him. Each time, I start to tumble, he steadies me. We end up at his motorcycle. I don't even understand how I get on behind him. Noble is there. I hear his voice. He sounds like Tack to me, strong and steady.

Doing as I'm told, I hold on tight as the motorcycle leaps forward and races away from the battle.

The city is behind us before I realize my hearing is muffled. Everything was so loud back on the street. Now, with only the motorcycle's rumbling, my muted hearing is more noticeable.

My vision is blurred, too. I suspect I'm in shock. It's possible I'm injured. Confused, I rest my cheek on Tack's back and tighten my hold on him to avoid falling off.

As my body moves with his around each curve, I think of us together last night in bed. We felt right on a deep level. I'd begun to dream big and long-term. Now, I can't visualize what tomorrow will look like.

I keep my eyes closed until the motorcycle's engine goes silent. Even when I see we're at the farm, I refuse to let go of Tack. He doesn't rush me. I think he's also in shock.

Aunt Fred's soft voice lures me away from Tack and off his bike. Unsteady, I end up on my ass in the soft grass. I stare into Aunt Fred's blue eyes and think of my mom so far away. I wish Suzanne was here to swear Atticus's death wasn't my fault.

"Are you hurt?" Aunt Fred asks as she tenderly examines my face.

"They killed Atticus," I mumble and begin to cry. "He's all over me."

Aunt Fred turns her gaze away from me and holds up a hand. "It's okay, Siobhan."

My friend runs full speed before dropping against me and holding on for dear life. I can't understand what she's saying through her sobs.

I wrap Siobhan in my arms and look around for Tack. He's next to Aunt Fred. I hear his voice. My gaze locks on the sight of a bullet wedged in his boot. If it had gone through, he never would have walked right again.

When I reach over and tug the bullet loose, Tack kneels and takes it from me. I'm startled by the feel of his fingers on mine. How could we have been so happy just hours ago? I shouldn't have left the estate. I fucked up and people died.

As I begin to cry harder, Tack strokes my head and suggests, "You should take a shower. Clean up so we can see if you're hurt. Siobhan can help you."

"I will," Siobhan says, struggling to stand. "I'll help."

"What about you?" I ask Tack and reach for his face before realizing my hand is covered in blood. "Don't tell me you're going back out to that madness?"

"No, he needs to get checked out, just like you," Aunt Fred says and gestures toward a house a dozen yards to the left of her own. "We'll get you cleaned up and examined by a doctor. Carys is rounding up clothes for you. I'll call your mom and let her know what happened. Don't worry about anything."

I stumble along with Siobhan and Tack. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him rubbing his belly.

"Are you in pain?"

"Yes," he says, and I appreciate his honesty.

"I'm starting to feel sick," I admit. "Like my lunch is going to come up."

Inside the large farmhouse, they guide me down a back hall. Tack strokes the back of my head.

"My room is down the hall. Once you're cleaned up, Siobhan will bring you to me."

Tack looks down at where I grip his wrist. "Don't leave."

"I'll see you in a few minutes," he promises.

Siobhan guides me into the large communal bathroom. Atticus's blood causes my clothes to stick to my skin. I cry when I think of him. Siobhan keeps telling me how everything will be okay. She'd be more convincing if she weren't also crying.

We end up in the shower together. She washes my hair while I hang onto the wall and try to stay upright. Even in the quiet bathroom, I keep hearing gunshots and the chopper. In my mind, Atticus dies again and again. I see Tack drop from view over and over. I recall the faces of the staff in the two other SUVs.

Once Siobhan and I step out of the shower, I sit my damp ass on the closed toilet while she dries my hair.

"I got people killed today," I whimper as she helps me with the clothes Aunt Fred left. "One of them had only gotten married a few years ago. I overheard her telling her husband how excited she was to travel to Hong Kong."

"You did nothing wrong," Siobhan insists as she dresses. "On your way here, I heard Dad on the phone with Mom. He said all the assholes today are dead. Our guys are okay. Once we find out who's responsible, that person will end up in the boneyard. Just focus on that end part."

"Do I still have Atticus's blood on me?"

Siobhan hugs me as I begin crying again. I can't believe someone I knew for so long is simply gone. I wish I had chosen to remain at the estate. How many people would still be breathing if I hid rather than attempting to flee?

"Tack is alive, right?" I ask as Siobhan and I shuffle into the hall. ‘I didn't imagine that, right?"

"No, he's okay. I've seen him in various stages of pain before. I'd guess he's currently at a six, so that's not too bad."

Once Siobhan knocks on Tack's door, he throws it open while only partially dressed. I see an ugly red mark on his bare stomach. He looks at me and then back at his room.

"It's not fancy like yours."

Imagining him dead in the road, I don't give a damn about his room. I launch myself at him, wanting to know he's real and safe and mine.