Page 89 of Twisted Steel

Chapter Eleven

The Line He Crosses

Harper

The attack comes thirty-seven minutes later.

Not at the gate or through the front.They come through the back fence.Because of course they do.

One second, Mama M is telling a prospect he has the survival instincts of a wet paper bag, and the next, gunfire tears across the compound.Windows explode inward and someone screams.My mug hits the floor and shatters.

Training takes over before fear can.“Down!”I shout, grabbing the nearest prospect by the back of his cut and yanking him behind the bar.

Bullets chew through wood.Glass rains across my shoulders.Mama M is already moving, shotgun in hand, face cold as death.Raven grabs my arm and hauls me sideways as a bullet punches through the wall exactly where my head was.

“Okay,” I gasp.“That was rude.”

“Welcome to the circus,” she snaps, shoving me behind the overturned table.

“So much for safe,” I mutter.

“So much for locked down,” Raven adds with an eye roll.

A young prospect, Tyler, I think—God, his name is Tyler—drops near the hallway with blood blooming across his thigh.

I move, but Raven catches my jacket.“Harper.”

“He’s hit.”

“The room is still hot.”

“He’s bleeding.”

Her eyes flash because she understands exactly what that means to me.She curses.“Fine.But stay low.Move when I move.”

“You’re very bossy for someone who isn’t Steel.”

“I’m prettier.”

She surges up and fires twice toward the broken back windows while I crawl across the floor.Glass cuts into my palms.Something whistles over my shoulder.Wood splinters against my cheek.I reach Tyler just as he starts to panic.

“Hey,” I snap.“Look at me.”

His eyes are wild.“I’m hit.”

“No kidding.I thought you were redecorating.”

He makes a broken sound that might be a laugh.Good, laughing means breathing.I clamp both hands over the wound, and blood pulses between my fingers.

The hit’s arterial.Fucking hell!

“Tourniquet!”I shout, but no one answers.

The gunfire gets louder.Raven slides in beside me, landing hard on one knee, a pistol in one hand and a roll of duct tape in the other because apparently she stores office supplies on her person.

“Will this work?”