The world blurred. Heat tore at my skin, light fractured behind my eyes, and all I could think was someone had walked into the fire to pull me out.
Not throw me in.
CHAPTER TWO
SMOKE CLAWED ATmy throat, thick and bitter as sin.The whole damn compound was burnin’, flames crawlin’ up the walls like the devil himself wanted to wipe this place off the earth. My arm was bleedin’, my rifle hangin’ off one shoulder, and over the other—I had her.
The woman fought me at first. Weak as hell but mean with it. Her nails caught my back, her breath ragged against my neck, but I held on. Didn’t matter how much she twisted; I wasn’t lettin’ her go.
“You’re safe,” I rasped through the smoke, voice rough enough to scrape the air. “I’m not leavin’ you to burn, darlin’.”
Her head lifted, eyes flashin’ even through the soot and terror. That look—pure stubbornness—hit harder than the heat.Blonde hair tangled around her face, skin pale from the ash, but that fire in her… that was somethin’ else. I’d seen men break cleaner than glass under less. She didn’t know me. Didn’t trust me. Couldn’t blame her. But I wasn’t walkin’ out without her.
The hall behind us collapsed with a scream of timber. Sparks rained down like judgment. I pushed forward, lungs near seizin’, arm on fire from a wound. The moment I broke through the tree line, the air hit cold and wet, and the world tilted—half-smoke, half-storm.
Ash was there, eyes cuttin’ through the dark like he’d been waitin’ for me to come outta hell itself. “Got her,” I grunted, settin’ the girl down just long enough to shift my rifle, before pickin’ her up again. “Locked up in a storage room.”
She twisted, tryin’ to pull free. “You can put me down.”
“Yeah,” I drawled, hitchin’ her higher instead. “That ain’t happenin’, darlin’.”
Ash’s gaze snapped to her, relief cuttin’ through the soot on his face. “Listen to him, Lark.” Then back to me—focused, decisive. “Get her in the tunnel.”
Didn’t need to be told twice. I nodded once, jaw tight. “Move. We’re burnin’ daylight we don’t got.”
The tunnel swallowed us whole. Cold stone, slick with damp, the air thick with the stink of oil and smoke. Every breath echoed too loud. I could feel her heart thumpin’ fast against my chest, the tremor still runnin’ through her body. She was fightin’ for control even now, too proud to ask, too stubborn to break.
“Hold on,” I muttered, keepin’ my voice calm, the way you talk to a spooked animal. “Almost there.”
Ash led the way, one hand brushin’ the ceiling like the rock itself would guide him. The air shifted, cooler now, cleaner. Freedom close enough to taste.
Then the shouts started. Distant at first. Closer every second.
“They’re on us,” someone hissed behind me.
“Doesn’t matter,” Ash barked. “We’re almost there. Move.”
We moved. Boots hittin’ slick stone, rifles clatterin’ against our backs, every heartbeat countin’ down to the open air.
Then the tunnel broke wide. Cold wind hit like baptism, biting and real. Gearhead was waitin’, reachin’ down to grab Lark first, haulin’ her up with a grunt. I followed, boots hittin’ mud just as Spinner dropped the charge.
The explosion tore the night apart. Fire, rock, then silence. Heavy. Final.
Lark lay a few feet away, face turned toward the storm. Rain started, soft and cold, washin’ the soot from her skin. I crouched beside her, my hand hoverin’ a second before I brushed the wet hair off her cheek.
“You’re safe now,” I said, voice gone rough. “Nobody’s touchin’ you again.”
Her eyes cracked open—blue and hollow but still sparkin’. That same defiance from the firelight stared back at me, and I felt it settle somewhere deep where reason couldn’t reach. Foolish or not, it was there.
Gearhead’s hand came down hard on my shoulder. “We gotta move, brother.”
“Yeah,” I breathed, standin’ slow, muscles screamin’. “I’m with you.”
The van waited at the treeline, engine hummin’ low, blacked out like a ghost in the rain. Spinner reached for her, and I passed her over careful as glass, not lettin’ go till she was seated and safe. Even then, my hand lingered too long on her arm.
She looked small in the dark, fragile maybe, but I’d seen her stare down a burnin’ world without blinkin’. There wasn’t a damn thing weak about her.
“Hold on, Lark,” I murmured. “We’re takin’ you away from here.”
