Sweat trickles down my temple, stinging the cut I got two nights ago. I ignore it. Eyes locked forward, scanning rooftops, alleys, the shimmer of heat on the horizon.
We pass a burned-out car, its frame twisted like a carcass. The stench of old oil and something worse hits my throat. I swallow bile, force myself not to look at the scorch marks on the ground. Not to think about how many kids have been blown open right there.
“Kingston.” Reese’s voice cracks through my headset, sharp. “You with us?”
I nod, jaw tight. “Yeah.”
“You don’t sound like yeah.”
I don’t answer. Because what the fuck am I supposed to say? That my chest’s been a coffin since the day I left her? That I hear her voice louder than the comms, whispering my name like it’s the only thing keeping me standing?
I flex my fingers against the rifle, forcing the thoughts down. Bury them.
Not now.
The sun shifts, bleeding down the walls of the street in long shadows. Every corner looks like it’s holding its breath.
“Two out,” Leo mutters.
Two minutes.
The air feels heavier. Denser. Like the sky’s leaning closer, waiting. My heartbeat hammers in my ears. Not fear. Not yet. Just readiness. That edge you live on out here, the one where every blink might be your last.
The kid on the rooftop flashes back in my mind. His bare feet. His phone. The way he disappeared like smoke.
I can’t shake it.
Something’s wrong.
I glance at Reese. He’s chewing gum too fast, his jaw snapping. Leo’s shoulders are stiff in the lead. The rookie in theback—Keller—has his mouth half open like he’s praying, even though he swore he doesn’t believe in God.
Everyone feels it.
The hum of the engines.
The hiss of radios.
The silence pressing from every window, every shuttered door.
My grip tightens on the rifle until my knuckles ache and all I can think—All I can hear, louder than the convoy, louder than the silence—“Don’t you fucking leave me again.”
Her voice in my head.
Her hands on my chest.
Her eyes when I kissed her like I was trying to crawl inside her and never come out.
I drag a breath in, dust burning my lungs.
Exhale slow.
Focus.
The convoy rounds a bend.
The air holds.
Waiting and my gut twists because I know—we’re seconds away from the snap.
