Page 132 of Rescuing Mia

I turn back to the window, my breath coming in rapid gasps. Blake is still engaged with the remaining attackers, but they fall back.

“It’s not over yet.”

I spare a glance at Mia, who watches with wide, frightened eyes. Stormy is pressed close to her side, a low growl emanating from her throat.

Stormy is tense. Her hackles raised. Her gaze locked on the door. She’s prepared to defend Mia with her life.

Blake catches my eye, an unspoken question in his gaze. It’s time to set the stage for Mia’s “death.” It means allowing the attackers to get in a shot.

Fuck, this is madness.

Blake breaks away from the window, moving toward the rear of the house. He’s going to create the illusion our focus is divided and off Mia.

Suddenly, Stormy lets out a fierce bark, and I spin around just in time to see another man decked out in black tactical gear enter through the shattered remains of the front door.

Weapon raised, he aims directly at Mia.

A shot rings out, and Mia cries out in pain. My heart stops as she stumbles back, clutching her shoulder. Blood seeps through her fingers, but she’s protected by the tactical vest underneath.

It’s not real blood.

It’s not real blood.

Still, the sight of her injured makes my blood boil.

Stormy leaps forward, a blur of teeth, fur, and fury. The assassin manages a solid kick to Stormy’s ribs. She yelps in pain but reengages, lunging at the gunman, snapping at his arm, and forcing his second shot to go wide.

He struggles, trying to fend her off, but Stormy is relentless. Her training shines through. She bears down harder, her jaws clamping down on his arm.

His weapon clatters to the floor.

The assassin scrabbles for his fallen gun. His fingers close around the grip, and he brings his weapon up, aiming wildly.

Another shot rings out.

Mia jerks backward, her eyes wide with shock. For a heart-stopping moment, I think the worst.

Mia staggers and then collapses. Her body hits the floor with a dull thud. The fake blood spreads, soaking her shirt and pooling beneath her body.

At least, it better be fake blood.

Stormy, hearing Mia’s cry, releases her hold on the assassin and bounds to her side. She nuzzles Mia’s face, whining softly, playing her part in the deception.

“No! Mia, no!” I let out a guttural cry of anguish and rage, my eyes fixed on Mia’s blood-soaked body.

With me distracted by Mia’s death, the assassin pushes himselfup and stumbles toward the door. With shaking hands, he activates his communication device.

“Target eliminated.” His breath comes in short gasps. “The girl is dead.”

I hear a muffled response, a voice crackling through the device. “Well done.”

With the gunman’s attention focused on escape and not on me, I turn my fury on him.

“You killed her!” I launch at him and scream in his face. I deliver a series of blows, precise and powerful, that bloody my knuckles and take him down.

We clash in a brutal exchange of blows. My training takes over. My strikes precise and devastating. The assassin is skilled, but he’s no match for my rage.

The gunman staggers, trying to regain his balance, and I double down. Stormy leaps to my defense, sinking her teeth into the man’s leg. I land a final, disabling strike, sending the intruder crashing to the floor.