The boy in the back whimpered, burying his face against his mother’s chest. I shoved the guilt down. This wasn’t about clean hands. This was survival. The older man leaned over both of them, trying to shield them from harm.
“Nice shot,” Boone said, but his voice stayed grim. “The other one’s not slowing.”
He was right. The second van roared closer, bumpers grinding against our rear fender. Metal screamed. The Jeep lurched sideways, nearly sending us into the trees.
“Hold on!” Boone shouted.
I clung to the dash, heart hammering. The survivors screamed behind me.
The van pulled back for another hit, its lights blinding through the rain.
I chambered another round, jaw set. “Next one’s mine.”
Boone threw me a look, quick and sharp. “Stoker’s gonna kill me if you die on my watch.”
“If I die,” I shot back, eyes locked on the van barreling toward us, “it won’t be because you didn’t give me the angle.”
He barked a laugh despite himself, then yanked the wheel hard, lining me up.
The van surged closer, engine screaming.
I took a breath, aimed, and pulled the trigger.
23
Adam
The ridge was burning with noise—gunfire, shouted orders, the metallic scream of ricochets. My rifle was hot in my hands, the magazine nearly dry. Mud streaked down my face, mixing with blood from a cut I couldn’t remember getting.
“Ammo’s running thin,” Russ called, his voice calm despite the chaos. He dropped another hostile clean through the chest. “Two mags left.”
“Make them count,” I barked.
Hawk cursed from the far flank, a wild burst rattling from his weapon. “These bastards don’t quit!”
He wasn’t wrong. The masked men moved with precision, leapfrogging cover to cover, pressing us harder with each wave. They weren’t here to scare us off. They wanted to measure our fight, like Blade had said. Testing our limits.
But I’d been measured before. And I’d bled out half the men who tried it.
“Shift left!” I yelled, firing a burst that sent two of them diving for cover. “Don’t let them box us in.”
Blade appeared from the shadows at my side, silent and steady. His blade was slick, his expression unreadable. “They’re trying to herd us into the ravine.”
“Not happening.”
Static cracked in my comm, Boone’s voice cutting through, ragged and urgent:“Stoker—we’re engaged! Raine’s firing—”The line broke off in a hiss of interference.
My chest seized. For a second, the world narrowed to the wet trees, the gunfire, and the fact that Raine was out there under pursuit, throwing herself into the teeth of danger.
I wanted to break. To run. To tear down the ridge and fight my way to her.
Instead, I gritted my teeth, reloaded, and poured fire into the bastards closing in.
“Adam—” Russ’s voice came sharp. “If we don’t move in two minutes, we’re done.”
Two minutes. That’s all I had to hold the line. Two minutes until I could get to her.
“Then we hold,” I growled, sighting down the barrel. “No matter what it costs.”
