Chapter 2 - The Sniper and the Shadow
The red laser dot hovered over the center of my chest like a blood-red coin.
I didn’t have time to scream. I didn’t even have time to breathe.
Before I could move, a violent force crashed into my side. Vincent Vale threw his broad frame off the leather chair, tackling me straight to the hardwood floor.
CRACK.
The reinforced window shattered into a spiderweb of frosted glass. A high-caliber bullet ripped through the air where my head had been half a second prior, embedding itself deep into the mahogany door behind us.
Pain exploded across my ribs as Vincent’s full weight slammed over me. He shielded my body with his own, his large hands cradling the back of my head as glass rained down around us like frozen sparks.
"Down!" Marcus bellowed from the doorway, his weapon already drawn as he fired three warning shots out toward the tree line before slamming the heavy oak doors shut. "Breach on the east perimeter! Team two, move to the terrace!"
Underneath Vincent, I could feel the violent, irregular thudding of his heart against my ribcage. He was panting, cold sweat soaking through his linen shirt, his muscles trembling from the raw physical exertion his poisoned body wasn't built to handle.
Yet his grip on me was ironclad.
"Are you hit?" Vincent’s voice rasped against my ear. His tone was tight, sharp, laced with an instinctual rage that vibrated through his chest.
"I'm... I'm okay," I gasped, my lungs fighting for air. "Vincent, you need to lie back—your pulse is spiking above 150—"
"Quiet," he growled.
He didn't move away. For a man who had executed twelve nurses for brushing his shoulder, he was currently lying directly on top of me, his dark eyes hovering inches from mine, searching my face for blood or trauma.
"You didn't flinch," he murmured, a flicker of something dangerously close to awe passing across his harsh features. "The dot was on your chest, and you didn't flinch."
"I was too busy judging your reaction time," I retorted, though my voice trembled despite my best efforts. "Now get off me before your heart goes into ventricular fibrillation."
A dark, lethal shadow crossed his face, but he allowed me to help him shift onto his side. I didn't care about the rules anymore. I dragged him back against the solid base of his bed, out of the sniper's line of sight, and immediately pressed my fingers into his carotid artery.
His skin was clammy, but his eyes were sharp. Focused entirely on me.
Marcus rushed over, radio buzzing frantically with shouts from security guards scouring the grounds. "The sniper was positioned on the eastern ridge, Boss. Thermal optics showed a single shooter who vanished into the woods via a suppressed dirt bike. It was a targeted strike."
"Not targeted at me," Vincent said quietly, his voice dropping into a register that sent chills down my spine. "The shooter knew where I was sitting. The dot didn't touch me. It touched her."
I froze, my fingers still resting on his neck. "Me?"
"You came in here five minutes ago and started tearing apart their months of quiet work," Vincent said, his dark gaze locking onto mine with ruthless clarity. "Whoever is killing me realized you aren't just another paid caretaker. You're a threat."
"Then I must be doing my job right," I snapped back, trying to cover my rising panic with defiance.
Vincent let out a harsh, low sound—a laugh, short and cold. "You really are out of your mind, Nurse Carter."
"Probably," I admitted, reaching into my pocket to pull out my medical scissors to cut open his shirt sleeve where a shard of glass had sliced his forearm. "Now stop moving. You're bleeding."
"I said don't—"
"If you tell me not to touch you one more time while you're actively bleeding on my shoes, I will sedate you myself, Mr. Vale," I warned, pressing a sterile gauze pad firmly against the wound.
Vincent went still. Marcus looked like he was about to drop his radio in sheer disbelief. Nobody spoke to Vincent Vale like that. Nobody.
Vincent stared down at my hands—my gloved fingers pressing firmly against his flesh, stopping his blood. A muscle worked in his jaw.
"Marcus," Vincent commanded softly, his eyes never leaving my face.
"Yes, Boss?"
"Bring the outside toxicology team here under heavy escort. Clear the second floor for Ms. Carter. And doubled the guards on her door." He paused, his tone dropping an octave. "If so much as a shadow touches her tonight, I will skin every man on perimeter duty alive."
"Understood, sir."
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Vincent looked back at me, his fingers suddenly reaching out and wrapping around my wrist—not tightly, but with a warm, steady pressure that made my breath catch in my throat.
"You broke my rule, Megan," he whispered, his dark eyes burning into mine. "Which means you're stuck here until we figure out who wants us dead."
