Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
“Damn you!”
He tracked the beat of Adrian’s wet feet crossing the floor, heard the angle of his breath lower as if he were going to tackle him.
He waited until the last possible second before he jerked to the side and shot his knee up with trained accuracy.
He connected with the center of Adrian’s sternum, making him fold around the impact. Gage spun and swept Adrian’s legs from under him and let gravity do the rest.
Adrian got back up, swinging wild.
“Stop this, Adrian! Enough.”
Gage planted his feet, hooked an arm under Adrian’s, and turned his hips, using leverage instead of strength, and threw Adrian into what should’ve been open space.
He heard Adrian hit something that made a sharp, cracking sound.
Then a splash.
Gage froze, waiting for Adrian to break the surface, waiting for gasping, coughing, thrashing.
When he heard nothing, Gage dove in the direction Adrian fell in.
The pool swallowed him, and he combed through the water until he found skin, then a limb.
He gripped Adrian under the arms and hauled him up, forcing Adrian’s chin above the surface.
Adrian’s head lolled around on his shoulder.
Oh my God.
He swam them to the edge, muscles burning, and got Adrian’s body against the wall.
With one hand clutching Adrian’s armpit, he climbed out first, before he heaved Adrian up and onto the tile.
“Adrian,” Gage said, slapping his cheek. “Adrian, wake up.”
No response.
He dragged his fingers over Adrian’s face and scalp, finding a seeping gash in his wet hair at the back of his head.
He gulped hard.
No, no, no. Please.
He repositioned Adrian and pressed two fingers under his jaw. The pulse was faint, but he started CPR anyway.
Hands locked, he counted. “One. Two. Three...”
He hated this. Hated that a man he’d trusted had pushed it this far.
He was on the second cycle when he heard pounding at the door.
“Help me!” he hollered.
A heavy bang startled him, then another, before he heard the heavy door give way.
“Gage!” Roz barreled inside.
For a short moment, he didn’t speak, knowing his best friend was taking in the scene.
“What the fuck happened?”
“Call for a medic,” Gage gritted, still doing compressions.
“Command, this is Roz. I need immediate medical response to the pool.”
He kept working through the burn in his arms, his breath coming in rapid, shallow gasps.
“And send an alert to Scar,” Roz demanded.
Gage’s stomach dropped.
He didn’t want Scar or anyone, for that matter, to find out what really happened. He needed time to get control of the narrative.
Roz’s alert was going to spread like wildfire, and when Scar got wind of it, his fiancé would act first and ask questions later.
White Ravens
Gage
Gage got Adrian breathing stronger, but he was still glassy-eyed and dazed, blinking as if he couldn’t figure out where he was or how he’d gotten there.
His own hands were still shaking.
He’d almost killed a man.
Medical came in fast, shoes squeaking—barking orders—equipment rattling, someone rolling a gurney.
One man called out vitals as another tried to get Adrian to speak.
He mumbled something that didn’t form into words before he was quickly lifted and rolled away.
Roz threw a towel around Gage’s shoulders and ordered, “Arms out.”
He did it. Roz wrestled him into a robe, tied it around his waist, and pressed his cane into his hand.
Four other medical officers hovered before one touched his forearm. “Saint, let us check you out too.”
“I’m fine,” he said firmly.
The medic hesitated before she sighed and left him alone.
Gage took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his heart down to a normal rhythm.
“I’m going to my quarters,” he said. “Call me with an update on his condition.”
Roz didn’t move. “You’re not going anywhere until you tell me what happened,” he said.
“It was a misunderstanding,” he answered tightly.
Roz made an angry sound in the back of his throat. “No, it wasn’t.”
He stayed quiet.
“Gage,” Roz growled, “you’ve never been a liar. And you damn sure ain’t a good one.”
“Roz—”
“Why do you have scratch marks on your back?”
Gage’s stomach dropped.
Crap.
“I, uh…I must’ve brushed up against the side of the pool or something.”
Roz didn’t respond, but his silence was loud.
Heavy boots moving with precise, practiced speed and crackling radios rushed into the room and spread around him like a net.
Roz’s emergency call had triggered more than the medical response team.
Another man stopped a few feet away from him. His sudden arrival carried the scent of vintage cologne layered over bold roasted coffee, as if he’d been awake for hours and expected to be up a lot longer.
“Saint, I’m Chief Reyes. Security lead.”
His handshake was quick, strong, and professional. His deep voice all authority and confidence.
Gage pushed his middle fingers against his temples.
“Is all of this necessary? Adrian slipped and fell in the pool, and I helped him out. No big deal.”
“That’s bullshit,” Roz snapped. “You were fighting him. Why did he attack you? You wouldn’t’ve fought him unless you had no choice.”