1
Adam
Iwas glued to the television, watching the same woman do the impossible—again.
Floodwater surged beneath her, trees bowing from the force of the current. She dangled from a rescue harness, her one arm stretched toward a stranded dog that was clinging to debris. I’d seen her before. Three disasters, three different states, same silhouette. Always a blur in motion. Always gone before anyone could get a name.
I still hadn’t seen her face—just the braid. Long, blonde, soaked with rain and river mud. She moved like a soldier—deliberate, fearless, unshakable.I knew it was her. Turn around, sweetheart!
She was military. No one moved like that unless you were trained.
Was she trained?
Every time I watched the footage, she was the first on the scene. She risked her life to pull strangers from rooftops and trees, and even dove into floodwaters when the harness wouldn’t reach. I’d seen her wrap her own body around panicked victims, using herself as a shield until help arrived.
Who the hell was she? I wished she would turn around. The people she saved said she was an angel who appeared out of nowhere.
I caught a glimpse of her again—arguing with the pilot of the black rescue helicopter. They argued in every clip. She’d wave him off, ignore his signals, and point to the people still trapped. He always looked frustrated, protective, as if he had never won an argument with her.
I leaned forward as the camera zoomed in. She slipped—boots losing grip on a wet rooftop as she lunged for a crying child. My chest tightened. She went under—completely submerged—before the harness lowered again.
She didn’t clip in.
Instead, she threw the line to the girl and locked one arm through it. With one last burst of strength, she reached the girl, wrapped her in the harness, and gave the signal to haul them both out.
And just like that… gone.
I exhaled the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Damn,” I muttered, awe curling low in my gut. “Who are you?”
It had to be her.
I’d find out soon.
Footsteps pounded the hallway outside my door. My teammates were ready. Wheels up in an hour—headed to Texas to help with the very rescue mission I’d just watched on screen.
She was out there somewhere.
I intended to meet her. I knew it was her.
2
Raine
My boots hit the hangar floor with a wet slap.
Soaked. Again.
I dropped the helmet onto a folding table and peeled off my gloves, fingers trembling from adrenaline and cold. The flood had swallowed another road, and we’d pulled two more kids from a partially submerged school bus. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday, or was it the day before, and my muscles ached from the last rappel, but none of that mattered.
We got them out.
“Cap!” Logan’s voice cut through the noise. He jogged across the bay, rotor wash still tugging at his flight suit. “Got a situation.”
I didn’t slow down. “If it’s about me going back out, I’m fine. And for the last time, stop calling me Cap—I’m your sister, call me Raine. Besides, I’m no longer in the service.”
“What does it matter what I call you? Anyway, it’s not that.” He caught up, eyes narrowing. “Command’s flying in reinforcements.”
I stopped. “We don’t need more bodies. We need better coordination. And dry gear. I’m starving.”
