I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fight it back, but it was too late.
I twisted my head at the last second and heaved.
My body had officially turned on me. My legs turned to rubber, my skin burned, and my head floated.
But Dom didn’t recoil or make a disgusted sound.
Instead, he pulled me closer.
One arm clamped tighter around me, keeping me upright. His other hand swept across my forehead, brushing damp hair back as he murmured, “You’re burning up.”
“I’m sorry, I—” I started, but my voice failed me.
Dom didn’t let me finish. “Don’t say sorry. We’ve got this.”
I wanted to believe it, but my body was telling me otherwise.
6
DOM
I knew how to test limits—courtrooms, sports, life in general. But I also knew when to stop. There’s a line between surviving and self-destruction, and I’d learned not to cross it.
And Autumn was standing right at that line.
I hadn’t told her how bad the swelling in her calf was. The signs pointed to infection, and I was almost certain now. It was catching up to her. She was barely coherent, her movements sluggish, her fingers twitching every time she reached for me. I didn’t like it.
“Hey, easy.” I caught her as she nearly collapsed.
Her muscles had gone soft with exhaustion. Her breathing was shallow, and her skin was hot. She wasn’t just injured. She was burning up from the inside out.
It wasn’t pity that hit me. Pity keeps you at a distance. This was something else. It was a pull in the gut. A certainty. I couldn’t just get her out. I had to get her through.
“Dom,” she whispered, her voice paper-thin. “Leave me here. Get help, then come back for me.”
Defeat clung to her words, and I hated it. I didn’t blame her. Hell, I’d be a wreck in her position. I’d dealt with plentyof broken clients and held them up when they couldn’t stand on their own, even when I felt just as hopeless inside. But this wasn’t a client.
This washer.Autumn.
And somehow, she already meant far too much.
“Not a chance,” I said. She had a point, but there was no way in hell I was leaving her alone. “We’re getting out of here. Together.”
She didn’t need a hero.
She needed someone who wouldn’t make her break to prove she could keep going.
I pressed my palm to her forehead again. Worse. Her fever was spiking, and she needed warmth, dry clothes, and food—actual care.
And I was going to make sure she got it, whatever it took.
Which meant I had to move. Now.
A crack split the air, and a chunk of land sloughed away, disappearing into the void below.
I ground my teeth. Time was up.
Not far off, Lulu maneuvered across the terrain. She had somehow mastered mountain goat levels of navigation. Then she gave me a look.
