Footsteps.
We both freeze.
Multiple boots. Coming from the far end of the corridor, around the corner, rapid and coordinated.
Rex shoves me behind him and plants himself in the corridor, swaying slightly, his fists raised despite the fact the blood loss alone should have dropped him by now.
The footsteps get louder.
"Rex—"
"Stay behind me."
"Rex, there's at least four of them!”
"I saidfuckingstay!"
The first guard rounds the corner at a dead sprint.
And gets clotheslined by a bronze forearm that appears from the intersecting hallway like a battering ram.
The guard's feet fly out from under him. He hits the stone flat on his back with a crack that echoes through the corridor.
Rafael steps over the body.
He's holding a compact submachine gun.
"Hey, cariño," he says, flashing me a wild, blood-smeared grin. "Miss us?"
“Fuck, yes,” I breathe.
Behind him, Phoenix charges into the second guard, driving the man into the wall with enough force to crack plaster. The third guard raises his gun and Phoenix wrenches it out of his hands, tosses it down the hallway, and headbutts the guy so hard the sound makes my teeth ache.
The fourth guard takes one look at the carnage and bolts.
Raf lets him go.
"Where thefuckdid you get that?" I demand, staring at the machine gun.
Raf racks the charging handle with a satisfyingclackand tilts it so the light catches the matte black finish. "Oh, you like my new toy? Got it off some asshole. Did you know Phoenix can’t shoot to save his life? It’d be a hell of a lot easier if he did. Free weaponseverywhere.”
“And how the hell doyouknow how to use a machine gun?” I demand.
Raf shrugs. “The safety is off and it goesbrrrrt.What else do I need to know?”
Phoenix jogs up, broad chest heaving, a spray of someone else's blood across his shirt. His blond hair has come completely undone and hangs around his face in wild tangles.
He sees me first.
Relief crashes across his face so hard his knees nearly buckle. He crosses the distance in three massive strides and his arms close around me and I'm lifted clean off the ground, crushed against his thick torso, his face buried in my hair.
"You're alive," he breathes. "Oh thank fuck, you'realive?—"
"I won’t be if I don’t breathe, Phoenix,” I croak.
He loosens his grip. Barely.
Then he looks past me.