"The rocket hit near us, and I went into a tree. It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter?" His voice rises. He looks at my bare feet, cut and bleeding on the gravel, and his jaw goes tight. "Where are your shoes? Where is Raven? Who the fuck let you out here?"
"Nobody let me. I came because I saw you go down and I thought..." I stop. Swallow. "I thought you were dead."
"So you ran across an open field in the middle of a firefight. Barefoot. With a head wound." He's still holding my chin. His thumb is pressed against my jaw hard enough that I can feel his pulse through it. Or maybe that's mine. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I wasn't thinking."
"No. You weren't." He tilts my head again, checking the cut. His fingers are rough, but the touch is careful. "It's not deep. But your shoulder..."
"I can move it. It's fine."
"Stop saying fine." He lets go of my chin. Looks at me. His breathing is ragged. There's dirt in his hair and blood drying on the side of his face and he's furious with me. Completely, visibly furious. And his hands are shaking.
He grabs my face with both hands and presses his forehead to mine. His palms are rough and hot against my cheeks. I can feel him shaking.
"Stay behind me," he says. His voice cracks on the last word. "I mean it. Right behind me."
I nod. My forehead still pressed to his. Not ready to let go yet.
He pulls back first. Gets to his feet. Reaches down and pulls me up after him.
We move together. Along what's left of the garden wall, toward the sound of voices I recognise. Aidan shoutingcommands. The gunfire around us is changing. Less coming from the grounds, more concentrated toward the edges of the property. Whoever the families sent, it's enough. The fight is moving away from us.
William fires over the wall. Twice. I hear a shout. He fires again, and there's nothing.
A body on the lawn to our left. A man I don't recognize, lying on his side with his arm bent at the wrong angle and his eyes open. I don't know whose side he was on. I look away. Keep moving.
More bodies. Near the gate. The ground is chewed up from the rockets, craters in the lawn that glow orange at the edges.
We reach Aidan's position. He has blood on his hands and a rip in his shirt but he's standing and directing. When he sees William he nods once, sharp.
Then he sees me.
The color leaves his face. His gaze goes past me, searching the dark behind us, and I watch the moment it hits him. Raven isn't with me.
"Where is she?" His voice is different. Louder. Sharper. "Where is Raven?"
Guilt hits me so hard my chest caves. I left her. I left her behind that wall with a bleeding arm, and I ran, and I didn't think about her, not once, not for a single second. I was so consumed with getting to William that I abandoned the only other person in this fight who is as defenceless as I am.
"Behind the stone wall." I point toward the western tree line. "Matty got us out. She's hurt, her arm, but she's alive. She's behind the wall."
Aidan is already moving. William catches his arm.
"Aidan. I need you here."
"Get your hand off me." Aidan's voice is low and dangerous and nothing like the man who was teasing Raven about burned carrots an hour ago.
"She's behind cover. She's safe. I need you here to finish this."
Aidan's jaw works. He looks at William's hand on his arm, then toward the tree line.
Then Matty steps out of the dark. Blood on his hands. That same blank expression. He looks at Aidan.
"Raven's been moved to the vehicles," he says. "I went back for her after I got them to the wall. She's with two of your men. Her arm needs stitching, but she's fine."
Aidan stares at Matty. Then his shoulders drop, and he turns back to the line.
