Most of those agents thought they were working for the good guys. They had no idea what was happening behind the black curtain. So when he'd gone undercover, he made a point to essentially negotiate for their lives. And so far, it had worked. But he had no idea how much longer he’d be able to keep the charade going.
There were a lot of other missions that he wasn’t a part of. He could only assume that Orion didn’t trust him enough. Or maybe there was something about him that screamed he was one of the good guys.
Rafe had no idea. It was a constant fight to stay ahead of the game.
He knew Orion kept a close watch on him even though he was part of the inner circle. So to the outside world, he did everything as he was supposed to. Completely by the book. The ORUS book. Until now.
Would he make it in time to save his agent? Would he make it in time to save Noah’s future? He was breaking every rule in the book, but the kid’s life would be over if Rafe couldn’t pull this off.
Legs burning, he ran straight for the Del Tino house but stopped short when he heard shouts coming from the courtyard.
"Noah, stop," Rafe shouted as he ran as fast he could toward the back of the house.
The kid spared him a quick glance. "I can do this, Rafe. Let me prove myself. I don't need a teacher anymore."
Then Noah raised his gun, and Rafe was on the move.
Run. Faster.
Calhoun stepped into the courtyard at exactly the wrong time. And Rafe had seconds to make it work. Even as he was running, he tried to reason with Noah. "Kid, you don't want to do this."
But Noah was already raising his gun. And then Rafe did the only thing he could…he stepped in front of a bullet.
Pain. All Rafe registered was searing heat spreading from the center of his chest through his whole body. From his sternum to his fingertips; from his ribs to the tips of his toes.
Damn it, that hurt like a son of a bitch. Next time, don't teach the kid so well. It was too late for that now. His mentee, his friend, his brother had shot him. Not that he’d given the kid any choice.
In those split seconds, Rafe had to make a choice. To protect himself and his family, his life, or to protect his mission, the oath he’d taken to do the right thing. He prayed to God he’d chosen correctly.
He heard Noah's anguished curse, and he held himself perfectly still. He prayed to God Calhoun had run the moment the bullets started to fly. Rafe knew that by taking those bullets, his cover was blown. He couldn’t go back into ORUS, not after this. Orion would see it as a betrayal.
So either way, whether he liked it or not, Rafe DeMarco was a dead man. And better to go out this way, where he might still be able to look out for his family, than to go out the other way and leave them to the mercy of everyone else.
The kid stood over him, cursing quietly under his breath. Rafe forced his mind to quiet, and his heart rate to slow. Because as anguished as Noah was right now, he’d get his shit together in seconds.
Hell, Rafe knew enough to understand that mere seconds had passed as it was. Even though thanks to the pain, it felt like a fucking lifetime. He inhaled deeply, then held the breath for a moment before letting it slowly drain out of him. He used the tactics he learned at ORUS to calm his heart rate, to slow it down, to make himself appear dead.
But then something else happened. Another gunshot rang out. Noah's curse was no longer anguished, but angry and pained. What the fuck? Did someone shoot him? Had Orion sent another operative just in case, to tidy up loose ends? Holy shit, had he gotten the kid killed too? What a fucking—
And then he heard it, feminine screams. He filtered out the fear, and he knew that voice. Lucia. Oh shit. Shit, shit, shit. What was she doing here? Why did she come after him? They’d had a deal. She’d nodded that she understood. What the fuck did he do now?
The temptation was strong to open his eyes and tell her he was okay. But if they'd shot Noah, then ORUS knew he’d betrayed them. And he had to protect them both and stay the fuck dead. Oh God, his sister.
Rafe's gut twisted and clenched as the urge to reach out to comfort her pulled strong. To
reach out to comfort the both of them.
But he needn't have bothered. As Noah leaned over him, clutching his shoulder, he forced himself to take Rafe's pulse. And Rafe held as still as he could until Noah took his fingers away. He fucking hoped this worked. Because Noah needed to remember his training. Needed to get himself the fuck out of there. Rafe just prayed that he took Lucia too.
Noah's voice was low, gravelly. "Lucia, listen to me. We have to get out of here."
His sister didn't say anything. Just clutched onto him, his shirt. Rafe had to resist the urge to flinch back so that she didn't feel the thin bulletproof vest underneath his T-shirt. Lay still, asshole. You have to pull this off. Their lives are in danger if you don't.
"Rafe. Rafe. Wake-up. You can't do this. You can't be dead. Not dead. Not dead."
Lucia just kept repeating the same thing over and over again. Fuck, she was going into shock. Noah needed to do something. Rafe could hear his friend’s low, hushed tones.
"Lucia. Lulu. Come on. We have to go.” But Rafe’s sister didn't answer. She sat there, clutching onto his T-shirt. Her hand in his hair, willing him to move. Willing him to get up.