“Five minutes,” I finally say. “Give me five minutes to secure Emma, and then I’ll take over the east defense myself.”
“We might not have five minutes,” Dante argues, but some of the anger has drained from him.
“Then buy me the time,” I say. “Please, Dante. I need to know she’s safe. I need—” My voice cracks. “I can’t lose her.”
Dante looks at me for a long moment. His expression softens slightly, though his eyes are still hard with frustration.
“Five minutes,” he finally agrees. “After that, we’re going to be fighting them in the hallways. And if you’re not there, we’re all dead. Including Emma.”
No one is getting to Emma to hurt her. “I’ll be there,” I promise.
Dante nods once, then turns and runs back toward the east perimeter.
I can’t fight and protect Emma at the same time so I need her somewhere secure, where I know she can’t be reached.
Our bedroom first. I burst through the door, gun still in hand, my heart pounding. “Emma!”
Empty. The bed is made. The bathroom door is open, showing an empty room beyond. No sign of her.
The library. She’s always in the library.
I run down the hallway, my footsteps echoing, my mind going to all the worst possibilities. What if she’s already in her father’s hands?
The library is empty too. Books undisturbed on the shelves. Her favorite chair is vacant. The window is intact.
Where the fuck is she?
Panic is clawing at my throat now. I’m checking rooms as I pass them. All empty. All silent except for the distant sounds of gunfire that remind me I’m wasting time. My men are dying while I’m searching the house like a madman.
But I can’t do anything until I know where Emma is.
My phone rings—Antonio—and I almost don’t answer it, but training overrides panic.
“Status,” I bark.
“Front’s holding. Where are you?”
“Finding Emma,” I say, rounding a corner sharply, my breath ragged. Fuck, if I survive this, I’m hitting the gym three times a day. “Have you seen her? Has anyone seen her?”
“Negative,” Antonio says urgently. “Leo, we need you down here?—”
I hang up and keep searching.
The east wing. Maybe she heard the assault starting on that side and went to see what was happening, maybe she’s hiding in one of those rooms?—
Then I see her.
West wing. She’s near her old bedroom. Why the hell would she be over here? But the thought dissolves because relief hits me so hard I nearly stagger.
She’s pressed against the wall, her face white as a sheet, eyes huge. But when she sees me, relief floods her features and she practically runs to me.
“Leo!” She grabs my arms. “What’s happening? Is that—is my father here? Is he back?”
“Yes,” I say bluntly, because there’s no point in lying to her. My hands go to her shoulders, checking her over quickly. No blood. No visible injuries. Thank god. “He brought at least fifty men. They’re hitting the estate from three sides.”
Emma’s face pales further but her jaw sets. “Then I need to help,” she says firmly. “I can talk to him.”
“No.” I take her hand and start pulling her down the hallway.