Page 57 of Point Proven
Snatching a thirty-five-pound plate from the rack beside him, I caught the shift in his stance, one that indicated an impending infiltrator.
Those echoes grew louder, screams ceasing as chaos ensued outside the gym. Swallowing, I stood in the same spot, listening to his demand, wondering when?—
The door slammed open, cracking against the wall as thudding footfalls breached the threshold. As soon as that booted foot stepped over Thorne’s established safe space, he swung the plate with ease, sending it sailing into the infiltrator’s face.
Bones snapped upon impact, but Thorne wasted no time. Shoving the man back, his fingers coiled around the rifle as a shot rang out, elbow colliding with the soldier’s jaw. Withone yank, Thorne disarmed him, shattering the poor bastard’s trigger finger.
Second nature took over, his movements mirroring a fluid dance as he adjusted his grip on the gun and fired a shot into the man’s chest. Popping the magazine free, he checked the rounds before slipping it back into place with deadly precision.
“Let’s fuckingmove,O’Neill!”
“Yes, commander.” It slipped from my lips, and with a resounding nod, I followed him as I always would.
He slid from the training room with his back to the wall, keeping himself tucked in the shadows as we made our way to the stairwell. Prying the door open, he grabbed me by the back of my neck, shoving me inside first.
“Move. I’ll cover your back.”
Flicking my gaze upward, I grimaced. “Fuck. Shouldn’t… Shouldn’t have done all those miles.”
Taking a deep breath, I bolted up the stairs with Thorne on my heels. There wasn’t a second of hesitation in his steps, and I knew I had to ensure mine remained the same because his mind was fixated on one thing.
Oren.
It wasn’t only the skilled movements of his training that launched him forward, but a deep-rooted fear of what had occurred before—Oren’s near-death experience.
Slamming my palms into the metal push bar, the door to the eighteenth floor opened, but I didn’t step through, not until Thorne gave the signal.
Slipping from the stairwell, the hallways were empty, but blood coated the walls, and rooms were kicked in. We were on the opposite side of where our group of rooms were, and with each slide of my boot, my breath caught in my throat.
A massacre, that’s what this was. There was no rhyme or reason to the killing, simply an eradication to showcaseStefan’sgruesome nature.
Thorne’s breath hitched behind me, his panic palpable. Rifle trembling, he gestured forward, his throat bobbing with an intentional swallow.
I wanted to tell him it would be okay, that everyone was alright, but if it weren’t true… that would only add to his downfall. Stepping over another body, a sharp whistle cut through, the unmistakable crack of a gun echoing.
But it was the voice of his love that sent Thorne racing.
“Fuck!”
Rifle raised, Thorne took off in a sprint down the hall. I followed him, my gut stirring with unease.
Oren stood at the threshold of their room, breathing heavily as bodies littered the entrance. Gun trembling, he swiped at the crimson staining his cheek with the back of his hand. Snapping his cerulean gaze to Thorne, an immediate smile graced his features, even if it was shaky.
“B-Baby…”
As Thorne stepped past the next room, it was as if time slowed and moved faster all at once. Unable to process in time, the weapon was already aimed at him. With a quick pull on the trigger, the bullet was released, sinking into Thorne with a whistle I would never forget.
“Stefan sends his regards.” The man turned to me, raising his pistol once more. “You. Come with?—”
Another shot sounded, but this time it was the masked assailant who dropped, blood dripping from his thigh as he screamed.
Matt kept his barrel pointing at the intruder, snarling. “I’ll fucking gut you! I’ll fucking make you wish that bullet had killed you!”
Dropping the rifle, Thorne’s hand traveled down to his stomach. Palming it once, he lifted it slowly, a thick layer of crimson coating his palm. He lifted his gaze to look between Oren and me, his body swaying once before he collapsed.
Oren was there instantly, hands pressing against the wound in an attempt to staunch the blood flow. “O-Oh God… Oh God… No… No. No. No.”
“S-Shit…” Thorne mumbled, the agony obvious in his timbre. “Levander… someone… needs to check on Levander…”
