I stiffened. His voice carried even when he tried to lower it. I didn’t turn right away, forcing myself to focus on the medicwrapping my arm. But every nerve lit up, aware of his presence behind me.
“I said I’m fine,” I snapped.
“Didn’t ask,” he shot back, stepping into view. He was just as soaked, hair dripping down his temple, shirt plastered to his chest. He should’ve looked wrecked, but somehow he carried disaster like armor. “I came to tell you we’re moving back out.”
I lifted my eyes, meeting his. My throat tightened. “Then go.”
Something flickered across his face—frustration, regret, something he didn’t want me to see. His jaw flexed. “Don’t pull that lone-wolf crap again. You scared the hell out of me.”
The words cracked through me, sharp and unwanted. For a second, I forgot how to breathe.
I forced a laugh, brittle and cold. “Scared you? That’s rich. You don’t get to say that after what you did.”
His eyes narrowed. “Raine—”
“Save it.” I shoved off the cot, ignoring the medic’s protest. “We’ve got work to do. People to save. That’s all that matters. Not us.”
I shouldered past him, braid whipping against my back, and didn’t look to see if he followed.
Because the truth—the one I couldn’t admit—was thatusstill mattered more than I could bear.
9
Adam
The command tent buzzed with noise—radios crackling, generators rattling, voices trading updates that all sounded the same: bad. The river wasn’t slowing. If anything, it was hungry. There were still people being rescued, but the river went where no one thought it would, and that caused more disasters.
I stood over the sector map, dripping on the dirt tent bottom, trying to ignore the ache in my shoulders. Boone leaned back in his chair like this was a poker game, not a flood zone. Russ was methodical as ever, checking equipment with the patience of a monk. Hawk kept pacing the perimeter, muttering under his breath like he was arguing with ghosts, and Blade… hell, Blade was sharpening a knife he’d pulled from God knows where.
Same circus. My circus.
“Tell me again why we’re playing babysitter instead of letting FEMA handle this?” Boone drawled, kicking his boots up on a crate.
“Because FEMA isn’t pulling bodies out of attics,” I said, not looking up.
“Yeah, but Raine Carter is,” Hawk shot back. “And you’re two steps behind her every damn time.”
My jaw tightened. “Stay on task.”
Russ, calm as always, clipped a carabiner onto his harness. “Foxtrot’s secured for now. We bought them time. Next sector’s worse.” He pointed to Echo, the red circle bleeding across the map.
“Echo’s mine.”
The words came sharp from behind me. I didn’t have to turn to know it was her.
Raine walked in like she owned the place—damp braid swinging, eyes still burning with the same fire that had nearly gotten her killed. Logan trailed at her shoulder, looking like he wanted to strangle both of us.
Boone whistled low. “Well, if it isn’t the angel of the floodwaters herself.”
She didn’t even flinch. “You boys want to waste time, or you want to save lives?”
Blade’s knife scraped slow against the whetstone. “I like her,” he muttered.
Of course he did.
I straightened, meeting her stare across the table. “Echo sector’s unstable. Levee breach is minutes away. You can’t waltz in there alone.”
Her chin lifted, stubborn as hell. “Then don’t let me be alone.”
