Page 127 of Requiem
The moment we hit the main floor, gunfire explodes. The sound is deafening.
Glass explodes beside us as bullets rip through the front windows, spraying shards across the hardwood floors. Heather screams while Micah shoves her down behind the overturned couch, returning fire almost instantly.
“Back entrance!” Kieran yells.
Rafe grabs Adela’s wrist and drags her low across the kitchen while Nico fires toward the front of the house. Somewhere outside, men are shouting in Russian over the sharp crack of rifles.
Jude catches my arm before I can lose him in the chaos. “Stay with me.” His voice is rough, blood still streaked across his jaw from Alexei’s punch.
I nod immediately.
We move fast through the kitchen hallway toward the rear exit while bullets hammer into the walls around us hard enough to shatter framed pictures. All I can smell is gunsmoke. Then someone bursts through the back door.
Jude fires first, dropping the man instantly.
Another comes behind him, dressed in all black, and Rafe shoots him directly through the throat before he can raise his weapon. Blood sprays across the doorway.
“Outside,” Rafe barks.
The freezing air hits us the second we spill into the backyard. Snow crunches beneath our shoes while floodlights from the approaching SUVs carve through the darkness beyond the trees.
There are too many of them. At least two vehicles are packed with men.
“Split up!” Nico shouts from somewhere behind us. “Move!”
Gunfire erupts again.
The woods explode with noise as bullets tear through branches overhead, bark splintering apart around us. Jude fires beside me while backing us toward the line of parked SUVs near the side of the property, his body constantly shifting to stay between me and the gunfire.
I barely register Adriana grabbing my wrist. “Emma!” she shouts.
I turn just in time to see Heather stumbling through the snow beside Adriana, terror written all over her face as gunfire erupts somewhere behind us.
Then I see the man aiming at her.
No.
“Heather!” Micah shouts. He moves before anyone else can react, slamming into her and throwing her down into the snow just as the gun goes off.
The shot cracks through the night, and Micah jerks hard.
Heather lands several feet away with a cry as Micah staggers backward near the SUV. For a second, he somehow stays standing, his weapon already raised despite the blood suddenly pouring through his shirt.
And then he fires.
The man who shot him drops instantly. Only after that does Micah finally collapse against the side of the vehicle.
The sound that leaves Heather doesn’t even sound human. “No!” She scrambles toward him through the snow, her shoes slipping as she nearly falls again, hands shaking by the time she reaches him. Blood is already pouring between Micah’s fingers where he clutches his abdomen, soaking through his clothes far too quickly.
Way too much blood.
Heather drops to her knees beside him immediately, pressing both hands against the wound while panic overtakes every inch of her face. “No, no, no, no—Micah—”
Micah winces, but when he looks up at her, something softer flickers through the pain. His hand lifts shakily toward her face.
“Blondie,” he says hoarsely.
Tears are streaming down her cheeks as she grabs his wrist. “Why did you do that?”
