Lorenzo had the uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu. His instincts were telling him to run and he always trusted his instincts.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this meet.” He once again checked where their Royal Protection agents were stationed, and glanced over at the few sticking close to him and Alex.

Alex strode next to him, brows furrowed. “I don’t, either. Something’s not right.”

“No, it fucking isn’t.”

They were walking from their car into the bowels of the docks. The press had nearly blinded them with flashes as they’d left the castle, then followed them to the dock entrance. They hadn’t been allowed to follow them inside, and he hoped they weren’t nearby. If something went down, he didn’t want more casualties.

He swallowed the bile crawling up his throat. The last time he’d felt like this had been in the jungle years ago, before they’d been ambushed.

This isn’t the jungle.

It’s not six years ago.

Then why the fuck did it feel like it was?

Alex scanned the area. “Where’s the meet?”

“In one of the offices, just up ahead.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t cancel.”

“You and me both. When I messaged Peter, the union’s regional officer, earlier today, he decided he wanted a last meet before the vote.”

Lorenzo stopped when his instincts told him once more to run. His heartbeat was racing, and he was finding it hard to breathe. Lorenzo bent over, resting his hands on his knees.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

Deep breath in.

Deep breath out.

He didn’t want to feel like this. He especially didn’t want to feel like this in front of his brother. What would Alex think now?

Alex’s hand came to his back, and rubbed in comforting circles. “It’s all right. You’re okay. Take another breath.”

He hated feeling weak, but hated showing weakness more. Over the last few years, he’d had to hide his weak moments from his family, and that had been the toughest part about his recovery.

If he couldn’t be weak in front of the ones he loved and still be accepted, could he ever be himself? Or would he need to play a part for the rest of his life?

If he couldn’t be himself with family, were they really his family at all, except in blood?

As soon as Liliana came into his life, he hadn’t realized it at the time, but he’d given up pretending. He’d given up on forcing his family to accept who he was, and how he was. He didn’t want his daughter to grow up and learn how to hide herself, and to only feel comfortable alone.

Lorenzo straightened and faced his brother. Alex’s mouth was pursed in concern, but Lorenzo didn’t see any judgement there. Hope bloomed in his chest.

“Are you all right?”

Lorenzo took another deep breath. “Yes. I’ve just got a really bad feeling about this. I say we turn back. I’ll message Peter and let him know we can’t take the meet.”

Alex nodded. “I agree. What about the strike?”

“We’ll just have to do damage control. I don’t feel safe right now.”

“Lorenzo.”

“I don’t feel like you’re safe, either.”

Alex pursed his lips and looked around. “I think you might be right. Let’s go.” Alex signaled to the agents nearby and told them about the change in plan.

As they began walking out, Lorenzo’s unease only increased. “Stick close, big brother.”

“You, too, little brother.”

Lorenzo glanced at his buzzing phone. “Peter still wants the meet. Just for a few minutes. He knows we’ve arrived at the docks, so he’s wondering why we’re pulling back now.”

“Pushy, isn’t he?”

He frowned. “Yes, which is unusual for him. I wonder–”

Lorenzo turned his head and his eyes caught someone standing on top of a row of storage containers.

They were holding something that was pointed straight at them.

A rifle.

Holy shit.

Instinct took over and Lorenzo leapt onto Alex, covering him and tackling him to the ground.

The first bullet hit Lorenzo’s arm. He gasped in pain, then scrunched his eyes shut as his mind flew into the past.

He was in the jungle. Perez was in his arms and the chopper was too far away. He stumbled as the bullet stung his arm.

The second bullet hit the ground nearby. The agents scrambled to protect them, their guns now drawn and firing back.

A second bullet hit his thigh. He was on the ground. Perez was screaming in pain. He was screaming, too.

Alex was calling him, saying something. He couldn’t hear. He couldn’t hear anything. Everything was white noise all around him.

Another bullet. More pain. He was burning up. The jungle and the fire were too hot. He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t breathe. He blinked his eyes open, but the harsh lights of the dock were all he could see. Blurs of color moved around him.

He had to get up. Had to help Perez. Had to get out. They were getting closer.

He was on his back, Alex’s worried face now over his. Why was he worried?

He felt blood or sweat or both rolling off his body. He knew he didn’t have much time. The chopper was nearby. He could hear it getting closer. Then he felt the rush of air from the chopper’s blades as it flew over them.

Fresh air.

He could breathe.

He could finally fucking breathe.

The chopper stopped and hovered at the extraction point, waiting for them.

He had to get them out.

He screamed as he stood, the pain vicious and clawing.

He picked up Perez again.

Then he ran like hell.

“Lorenzo! Lorenzo!”

Alex’s voice got further and further away, until there was nothing.