“Kai, I had no –” Preston started again.

“You think I give a f**k?” Mace whispered and the tortured way those words came out made my stomach clench and even Preston flinched. “Honest to God, you think I give a f**k about anything that has anything to do with you? They tortured her, Dad, they cut off her f**kin’ hand then they took her f**kin’ life and al that is on you. This is not a f**k up like you grounded her for too long because she missed curfew and she’s pissed like any teenager would be pissed because their Dad is an ass**le, for f**k’s sake.” Mace spit the last three words out and kept going. “You f**ked up and her life ended. Even after it was done, I cleaned up your goddamned mess and kept my mouth shut. Way I see it, you owe me, you owe me huge, you owe me a f**kin’ sister and there’s no way to repay that so I’m tel in’ you now, you repay by getting the f**k out of my life and staying out.”

Preston held his son’s eyes.

Then, because he was a dick, he kept trying.

“Every day, I think of her and –”

Mace took a step back, most likely to retain a shred of control even as he lost it and roared, “Fuck! I do not give a f**k! ”

And that was when Juno woofed but her woof was not a woof of solidarity with Mace; it was a different kind of woof.

It was the kind of woof that made Mace’s head whip toward her so my head whipped toward her and I saw she was on al four paws on the bed, staring at the wal .

Then she woofed again as she jumped off the bed. Then she didn’t woof but barked, straight out, sharp, agitated, a warning. She immediately started dancing along the wal , sniffing, restless then more barking.

“Goddamn it,” Mace clipped, reaching into the jacket of his tux to pul out his phone but it started ringing before he got to it as did the phone in my house. “Goddamn it! ” Mace barked then shouted. “Get down!” When both Preston and I hesitated a mil isecond, he roared, “Down! ” On his word, the windows exploded and I hit the deck and I hit the deck with Mace’s body on top of me.

“Juno! Come! ” Mace shouted, I tried to look but he had an arm over my head, his body covering me as gunfire sounded from what seemed like al around, piercing my eardrums. “Talk,” I heard Mace growl, probably into his phone then, “No shit? You hear that. We’re under heavy fire.

Units. Every available man. Now.”

Then I heard the flip of a phone closing just as the gunfire stopped and I felt the fur of Juno pressing to my arm.

Thank God, she was close.

I thought that then thought no more. Mace was up and he was hauling me up with him.

“Move,” he ordered when he had me on my feet but he didn’t need to, he had my hand and he was dragging me to the door. “Come!” he commanded Juno but he didn’t need to do that either because she was right at our sides, crowding us.

That was when I heard several very scary noises, noises the like I only ever heard in movies. I stupidly stopped, turned my head and saw them.

I saw them.

Mace didn’t stop, he didn’t even hesitate. I knew he heard it too and I knew he knew what they were without looking at them. I knew this because he went faster, as in a lot faster, as in running faster and my feet had to move again or he would literal y be dragging me.

But I saw them.

I saw them

Grenades.

Not one.

Three.

Three!

I realized it then that they blew out my windows at an impossible angle if they were firing from the ground or they did it from higher ground but at a distance only so they did it from higher ground but at a distance only so they could launch the grenades in and blow us to bits.

Shit.

Shit!

We were out the door on a run and sprinting down the stairs, Juno at our sides, Preston fol owing close when we hit the first landing, multiple explosions rocked my apartment and tossed us as they blew out the wal above our heads. We flew to the side, Mace slammed into the wal and I slammed into him while plaster, wood splinters and probably bits and pieces of my possessions shot over our heads and rained down on us.

It took Mace a nanosecond to recover before he was dragging me down the next flight of stairs, this time tucked close to him, his arms crossed and covering my head.

We hit the second floor landing when he stopped us and shoved his phone in my hand just as he reached into his jacket at his waist and around his back where I knew he had a holster. I heard the click of him releasing the strap and he came out with a gun.

“Cal back last cal in my cal history. That’s the control room. They gotta have a status update, get it,” he ordered then his eyes slid to his father and he went on talking as I flipped open his phone and shakily found his recents screen. “Stay here with Stel a. Do not move unless I tel you to.”

I looked up to see Preston getting close to me then I looked to Mace to see him moving cautiously toward the mouth of the flight of stairs that led to the first floor.

He didn’t move cautiously back. He jerked back as gunshots went up the stairs, bul ets embedding in the ceiling. I swal owed a scream and, to stop my instinct to throw myself at my man, I pressed into the wal . Preston pressed into me. Juno pressed into me. Mace ran to a door, tried the handle, found it locked then he took a step back and slammed forward using his shoulder and the door blew open.

His eyes sliced to me. “Fol ow me, Kitten, at my back.

Close. Now.”

I moved, got close to his back feeling Juno’s fur brush my bare legs as I did as wel as feeling Preston keeping close.

Mace moved into the second floor hal and we al moved into the second floor hal . Mace shifted and we al shifted.

Mace pushed the broken door to, pul ed a narrow table from the side wal until it was blocking the door and he shifted again, moving down the hal , quickly but stealthily, head up and sweeping side to side.

We al moved with him.

I kept close to his back, my fingers shoving up under his jacket to curl into the waistband of his trousers and I looked back at the phone. I hit go on the last cal and put it to my ear.

It didn’t even ring before it was answered; there was no greeting, just a barked, “Status.”

“Um… hi,” I said. “This is Stel a.”

“Right, Stel a, status,” the man’s voice replied, not a bark this time but stil sharp, urgent and I thought it was Monty but I wasn’t sure and I didn’t give it headspace at the time because Mace moved us toward a wal , stopped and was doing hand motions to his father. I felt Preston’s fingers curl around my arm as I felt Mace’s fingers curl around my wrist to detach my hand on his slacks. Then he stared into my eyes a beat before he turned and moved back where we came.