Torch carried Rachel across the gravel lot toward the SUVs, her weight cradled against his chest.
Predator flanked them, rifle low, eyes scanning the perimeter. Carver limped beside them, one hand clamped to his bleeding shoulder.
A single shot cracked from inside the warehouse.
Rachel closed her eyes briefly and breathed out through her nose.
Langley was dead.
It was over.
Torch's arms tightened around her slightly, a silent acknowledgment. He kept walking.
They reached the SUV. Torch carefully set Rachel on her feet beside the open door, his hands staying on her waist until he was sure her legs would hold.
Carver was already climbing into the back seat, his face pale and gray in the dim light. Blood had dried dark across his arm and jaw.
Rachel stood outside the open door, Ghost's shirt hanging to mid-thigh. Her arms crossed over her ribs, fingers pressing against the tender spots where bruises were forming.
She turned toward the warehouse entrance. He would come through it. She knew that. But part of her still listened for the wrong sound, boots that weren't his, a voice she didn't recognize.
She needed to see him.
Bear stepped up beside her without a word. He set the med kit on the SUV's roof and unzipped it in one smooth motion.
Rachel stayed quiet. Her gaze locked on the warehouse entrance, her shoulders tight. Her hand moved to her ribs again, fingers curling protectively against the bruised bone.
Bear caught the gesture. His eyes moved to her hairline where blood had dried in a thin line down her temple. He pulled a cloth from the kit, dampened it with antiseptic that smelled sharp and medicinal, and reached up carefully.
"Let me see," he said, then cleaned along her skin with steady hands.
Rachel flinched once at the sting, cold and burning at the same time, then held still.
"You holding it together?" he asked.
She kept her eyes forward on that dark doorway. "Trying."
Bear gave a small nod and grabbed a fresh cloth, this one for her wrists.
After a moment, she glanced up at him. "You always this gentle?"
He exhaled hard, almost a laugh. "Don't spread it around."
Rachel didn't smile, but her jaw relaxed slightly.
Behind them, Torch paced the back lot with his weapon cradled loosely. Reaper stood near the warehouse entrance, motionless, watching the dark interior. Predator and Brick swept the perimeter one last time.
Bear reached out and squeezed her shoulder once, brief and firm.
Then the door opened.
Ghost stepped out into the night air, alone.
Rachel stopped breathing.
Blood streaked his hands, knuckles split and raw. Red smeared up his forearms in lines that had dripped and dried. More blood marked his bare chest where it had splattered, dots and streaks that had started to crust over. His shoulders were squared, his movements controlled, but his whole frame looked wound too tight.
His eyes found hers the moment he cleared the threshold.
