I stared at her, my chest twisting, because we both knew that was impossible.
Boone shouted from the Jeep, “We’re loaded! Move!”
I hauled Raine up, my hand locking around hers. “You’re going. With them.”
She tried to yank free, but my grip didn’t break. Not this time.
“Adam—”
“Don’t argue.” My voice dropped low, almost a growl. “I’ll find you when it’s done. That’s a promise.”
Her eyes burned into mine, fierce and unyielding. But for once, she didn’t fight me. She let me push her toward the Jeep.
The second the doors slammed shut and the engine roared, I turned back to the ridge, rifle up, heart pounding.
And prayed I’d bought her enough time.
18
Raine
The Jeep jolted over potholes, tires spitting mud as Boone gunned it down the flooded road. The survivors huddled in the back seat, wide-eyed, whispering prayers under their breath. I should’ve been focused on them, but all I could hear was the gunfire behind us.
Every shot felt like a hammer against my ribs.
I pressed a hand to the door handle, knuckles white. Adam’s voice was still in my ear, rough and unyielding:Don’t argue. I’ll find you when it’s done.
Like hell.
He thought he could shove me into the background, keep me safe while he burned himself alive in the fire. He still didn’t understand—I wasn’t a distraction. I wasn’t baggage. I was part of this fight, whether he wanted me there or not.
Boone glanced at me in the rearview mirror, his mouth pulling into a knowing grin. “Don’t even think about it, Carter.”
I snapped my eyes up. “Think about what?”
“About jumping out of my ride and running back into the bullets.” He swerved around a fallen tree, steering one-handedlike it was nothing. “I’ve seen that look. Same one Stoker gets before he does something stupid and heroic.”
My chest tightened. “They’re outnumbered. If we leave them—”
“They’ll manage,” Boone cut in, grin fading. “We’re the best there is, sweetheart. You know that.”
I hated that he wasn’t wrong. But knowing didn’t stop the knot twisting tighter in my stomach. Didn’t stop the fear clawing at me with every distant crack of gunfire that echoed back through the night.
I looked at the boy beside me—the one I’d pulled from the van. His eyes were hollow, his small body trembling under the too-big blanket Russ had thrown over him.
I reached for his hand, squeezing gently. “You’re safe,” I whispered, more to convince myself than him.
Because if Adam didn’t come back—if this night swallowed him—I wasn’t sure I’d ever be safe again.
19
Raine
The road narrowed into a strip of cracked asphalt, trees closing in on either side. Water pooled ankle-deep across the surface, splashing against the undercarriage with every bump. Boone drove like the devil was on our tail—because he probably was.
The boy’s hand trembled in mine. His mother kept whispering prayers in Spanish, voice thin with exhaustion. Every word twisted tighter around my chest.
“Almost clear,” Boone muttered, leaning forward over the wheel. His grin was gone now, replaced by that tight, razor-edge focus I recognized from men who’d been in too many battles. “We should be getting close to help soon.”
