“Son of a—” Boone started.
I was already moving.
6
Raine
The roof groaned under my boots, sagging like a dying lung, parts of it already torn apart. Shingles shifted, one skittering into the black water below. The house tilted another inch, wood cracking loud enough to drown out the thump of Logan’s helicopter blades overhead.
I didn’t stop.
Two more inside. A woman and her father, cornered in a bedroom they couldn’t climb out of. I’d seen the flashlight blinking through the window, SOS in the dark. By the time anyone cleared it on the board, the house would be gone.
I adjusted my harness—no line, no backup. Just me and the rope coiled over my shoulder. My heartbeat was thunder, but my hands were steady. I’d been in tighter corners, darker places. I could do this.
“Raine!”
The shout cut across the roar of the flood. I didn’t need to look. I knew that voice.
Adam.
Of course he’d come. Of course he’d think I needed saving.
“Go back to Foxtrot!” I yelled over my shoulder, planting my boot against the window frame. Glass shattered under the force, spraying into the dark water inside. “I’ve got this!”
“Like hell you do!” His answer came closer, angrier, as if sheer will could drag me off this roof.
I shoved my arm through the broken window, ignoring the sting as glass tore skin. The woman’s sobs reached me first, followed by the pale flash of her father’s terrified eyes.
“Come on!” I urged. “Climb up, one at a time.”
The roof shifted again, a sickening lurch that nearly knocked me sideways. Water surged through the open window, swallowing the room chest-high.
And then Adam was there.
Boots slamming onto the roof, one arm catching my harness before I could fall and hooking me up. His face was too close, wet hair plastered to his forehead, eyes burning hotter than the floodlights.
“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” he snapped.
“Saving people,” I shot back. “You should try it.”
Something raw flickered across his face—anger, fear, something deeper I refused to name.
The roof gave another groan. We didn’t have time for this.
“Argue later,” I said, yanking my arm free. “Help me get them out, or move.”
His jaw tightened. For a heartbeat, I thought he’d drag me off the damn roof by force. But then he spun, bracing against the frame, and shoved his arm through beside mine.
“Fine,” he growled. “But we do it together.”
The woman’s face appeared again in the window, pale and streaked with tears. “Please—my dad—he can’t swim!”
Adam’s arm shot through the jagged frame. “Give me your hand!”
Her trembling fingers latched onto his. He hauled her up with raw strength, glass scraping his forearm. Adam easily pulled her through and sat her on the roof. She collapsed against the shingles, coughing, shaking.
“Stay low, hold here.” I pressed her hand against a solid beam. “Don’t move until I tell you.”
