"I can't lose you. Not now. Not after—" She gestures weakly at herself, at her injuries. "I couldn't survive losing you."
"You won't. I'll come back. I always come back."
She nods.
Closes her eyes.
"Stay with me?"
"Always."
I lie down beside her—carefully, so carefully, mindful of her injuries.
She shifts closer.
Rests her head on my shoulder.
The only part of her that isn't bruised or broken.
"I'm tired," she murmurs.
"Then sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Her breathing evens out.
Deepens.
She's asleep.
I lie there in the darkness, holding the woman I love, feeling her heartbeat against my side.
Proof that she's alive.
Proof that I didn't lose her.
But as I stare at the ceiling, the rage comes flooding back.
Cold.
Calculated.
Absolute.
They came after my family.
They hurt the woman I'm going to marry.
They took her ring—the symbol of everything we're building together.
And now they're going to learn what happens when you touch what belongs to a Raider.
I don't know who this man is.
Don't know where to find him.
