Cade appears inside and sees my hand pressed to my side.
“Graze,” I tell him.
He fires through the broken utility window without blinking, and outside, a man curses.
“They’re pulling back,” Rhett calls.
I push off the wall and head back to the kitchen, because if I’m breathing, I can still be useful.
The firefight lasts another thirtyseconds, or maybe a few minutes. Time is hard to track when men are trying to kill your family.
Someone whistles out by the trees, and the attackers break contact.
Rhett fires once more, and Cade sends a controlled shot toward the north drainage. I keep my rifle trained on the west treeline until the shadows fade away.
Things go quiet, except for glass tinkling to the floor and wind coming through broken windows.
“Report,” Rhett demands.
“North clear,” Cade answers.
“West clear,” I say.
“Southeast clear,” Rhett says. “Wren?”
“I’m here.” Her voice is still clear, but sounds like it’s taking all her effort.
After Cade checks camera feeds and confirms no movement, Rhett knocks twice on the safe-room door. “Open.”
The bolt slides, and Wren steps out with the pistol still in both hands. Her eyes go to Rhett, then Cade, then me.
“Boone!” The color leaves her face as she quickly holsters her weapon and heads straight for me.
“I’m fine.”
“It’s like you think I don’t have eyes. Sit down.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“No pursuit,” Cade reminds us on his way to the front door.
“I know,” Rhett says.
Cade gives him a look that says he knows Rhett knows, but somebody still needs to say it. We’re all tempted to retaliate, and it would be a good way to get ambushed.
Wren shoves my plate carrier open and lifts my shirt. When air hits the graze, I hiss despite myself. Her eyes flash. “This is fine?”
“Fine adjacent.”
“Boone.” She sounds on the verge of yelling.
“It’s a graze. I promise.”
“It’s bleeding.”
“That’s what grazes do.”
She presses gauze to my ribs with enough pressure to make me see stars, and I decide to take her seriously. She’s scared and furious, but she’s alive.