“No—no, no, no!” Boone gritted, wrenching the wheel, engine howling as he tried to recover.
The bridge groaned again, louder this time, echoing like thunder. Cracks spiderwebbed across the concrete under our headlights.
“Raine!” Boone’s shout ripped through the chaos.
I looked back—the van was surging forward for another hit, its masked driver locked on us, relentless.
We had seconds. Maybe less.
“Hold tight!” I screamed, to the people in the back seat as Boone slammed the gas.
The Jeep surged forward—
—and the bridge gave way.
The world dropped out from under us.
29
Adam
The ridge exploded in headlights.
Two vehicles tore up the muddy slope, engines howling, tires spitting sludge. Doors flew open, and more masked men poured out—I counted four of them, moving in perfect sync. Their fire lit up the night, a wall of lead and thunder.
“Contact! Contact!” Hawk shouted, diving for cover as bullets chewed the rocks around him.
Russ crouched low, returning fire with clean, deliberate bursts. “Too many,” he said calmly, like he was calling the weather.
“Keep firing!” I barked, slamming my last mag home. My rifle barked back at me, every shot precious. We may not be killing these bastards, but they were badly injured.
Blade emerged from the treeline, silent, blood streaking down his arm, his knife glinting in the storm. He dropped one man with a slash, another with a quick, brutal twist before vanishing into the dark again.
But it wasn’t enough.
The SUV beside me erupted as a grenade hit, the blast knocking me flat. My ears rang, my vision swimming. I forced myself up, rifle raised, chest heaving.
Static crackled in my comm—Boone’s voice, broken and jagged:“…bridge—collapsing—”
Then nothing.
Cold gripped my gut, sharp and merciless. The bridge. Raine.
“Stoker!” Hawk’s shout dragged me back. He was pinned behind a shattered tree, rounds ripping the bark to splinters. “We can’t hold!”
He was right. We were seconds from being overrun.
I planted myself against the wrecked SUV, teeth clenched, and poured the last of my mag into the advancing line. Masked men dropped, but more surged forward, shadows in the rain, relentless.
The ridge shook beneath us, not from the storm—
but from the weight of an enemy determined to grind us into the mud.
And somewhere out there, Raine was either alive or—
No. I shoved the thought down, chambered my last round.
Because until I saw her with my own eyes, she was alive.
