Page 115 of Requiem
We sprint. The back corridors blur together in flashes of gold light and marble floors, while alarms begin to scream overhead. Emma’s hand stays locked in mine as we run, her chest heaving with panic.
“You okay?” I throw over my shoulder.
“Yes,” she pants immediately. “Keep going.”
Three guards round the corner ahead, but Rafe kills the first before I even fully register him. The second raises his weapon toward Emma, and I shoot him through the fucking face. The third hesitates just long enough for Rafe to bury a knife beneath his jaw and yank.
But it isn’t enough.
More of them flood the corridor, pouring through the side entrances like Alexei anticipated this exact route. Boots thunder against marble while voices bark over each other in Russian. My pulse spikes hard as two men rush me at once.
I catch the first by the wrist before he can fire, wrenching the gun sideways just as the trigger goes off. The shot explodes into the ceiling. Pain jolts through my shoulder as I slam my elbow into his throat and rip the weapon free. The second crashes into me before I can recover, driving me hard into the wall.
“Jude!” Emma shouts somewhere behind me.
I barely hear her. Everything narrows into violence and instinct.
The man grabs for my throat, and years of conditioning rear upward inside me like a starving animal. My body reacts before thought can catch up. I smash the gun into his temple once, twice, then shove him backward hard enough that he crashes into another guard rushing toward us.
Gunfire erupts down the hall.
Rafe moves through it like death itself. One moment beside me, the next already dropping another man with a blade buried clean between his ribs. Blood sprays across the wall in dark streaks.
“Go,” he snaps.
I turn instantly toward Emma and freeze.
Because she’s gone.
My heart fuckingstops.
The hallway spins as I search for her through the chaos, my gaze catching fragments instead of answers. Bodies, blood, shouting, and a guard collapsing near the elevator. Another firing wildly toward Rafe.
But no Emma.
“No,” I breathe. Panic detonates inside my chest so violently that I have to fucking swallow it. “Emma!” I shout, twisting toward the branching corridor behind us. “Emma!”
Nothing. No answer.
My pulseroarsin my ears.
I shove past a staggering guard and sprint several steps back the way we came, searching every doorway, every flicker of movement through thesmoke and flashing security lights. My vision tunnels hard enough that I almost miss the hand grabbing my jacket.
Rafe jerks me backward just as another shot cracks past my head. “She’s not here,” he says sharply.
“She wasrightbehind me!”
Another guard lunges from the stairwell. I fire twice without thinking, the recoil jolting up my arm as the man crumples.
I can’t breathe.
No no no no—
I’m fuckingnauseous.
Rafe sees it on my face, and his expression darkens. “We need to get out now,” he orders.
“I’m not leaving her—”
