“But—”
“Not. One. Step.”
He’s shaking. I can feel it through his arms, his chest, his breath. But he holds me like I weigh nothing, as though his body isn’t a roadmap of shredded muscle and bullet holes.
I give into my begging instincts and bury my face against his neck.
He smells like blood and sweat and that impossible, aching thing that once felt like it could be home. My fingers curl into the torn fabric of his shirt, and I hate how badly I need to touch him right now. To make sure he’sreal.
Because I still don’t know if this is a dream or a hallucination or the final mercy of a dying brain.
But he’s warm, and he’s breathing.
Knox’s steps are uneven and limping, but unfaltering, as though every stagger forward is a statement.Mine to carry, mine to protect.
Gunfire crackles behind us, and I clench, bracing for impact.
Another burst of noise erupts from beside us. It’s controlled and focused. A series of crisp, deadly bursts ripple through the air like a percussion line. It’s a familiar cadence of tactical precision.
Viper’s covering fire.
“Two o’clock, upper window!” Shade’s voice cuts, clipped and sharp, followed by the rap of gunfire.
Knox doesn’t pause, just keeps moving with me in his arms like he’s not got his back turned to an army of savage hostiles. He trusts his team to cover him faultlessly.
Viper materializes at our side, weapon raised, eyes sweeping. There’s blood at his throat, dirt streaking his jaw, and his flak jacket torn.
His gaze lands on me, sharp and pointed, like a missile locking onto its target.
This time I flinch.
He’s in Blood Lust. The spidery veins at his temple frame his wild expression.
He grunts at my reaction, his brow pulling in dissatisfaction, and it wordlessly tells me a whole story with just his sullen face.
He’s not deranged or out of control. Somehow, by a miracle, he’s lucid and not overcome by violent compulsions. How?
“Status?” he barks.
“She’s hit,” Knox says, and it sounds like gravel and glass. “Thigh. Bleeding hard.”
Viper’s nostrils flare. For a moment, he looks ready to tear the town apart brick by brick for being the place I’ve been hurt.
I swallow.
It’s been a while since I’ve been the subject of such intensity.
There’s a shout behind us and then Blaze skids around a corner, laughing like a lunatic as he fires over his shoulder, somehow still hitting his mark perfectly.
“Fuck me, Sparkles is still alive,” he shouts, ducking behind Viper to glance at my thigh and sighs. “Ah, rookie error. How did they miss nicking the femoral artery?”
I blanch. Why does it sound like he’s disappointed?
He darts off again, his gun cackling at the same cadence as his unhinged laugh.
Shade appears at our other side and freezes mid-shot. The staunch, battle-focused expression drains off his face like a switch got flipped. He stares at me with deep concern.
“Shit.” His voice wavers. “Shit, is she—”
