Fuck!
“We’ve been made,” I tell Evlynne. “Let’s go.”
She jumps into action, grabbing her pack as I shove the rifle in the case and fling it over my shoulder.
We don’t have time to be stealthy anymore. We sprint for the trees, our boots noisily moving over the undergrowth and rustling through the brush.
“Gray,” Evlynne reports as we run. “Get us ready for the air. Adrienne says we’ve been made.”
When he reports back, there’s urgency in his voice. “Yeah, you need to move. There’s a truck bearing down on my location. Three clicks out. Get back here now.”
Adrenaline shrieks through my veins. I’m ahead of Evlynne, shoving my way through the jungle, fueled by sheer nerves. I don’t hear any trucks or gunfire, but that doesn’t mean we’re not about to get ambushed. I stay low as I run as fast as my legs will carry me. The weight of the rifle on my back makes each stride feel heavier, but I refuse to let it slow me down.
He said three clicks out. And less now. We have five minutes, tops, before they’re upon us. Fortunately, we’re less than five hundred meters now. All we have to do is maintain this pace and—
The ground beneath my feet disappears.
One second my boots are on something solid, the next, I’m weightless from the sudden drop. It’s a pit trap, and I have zero time to reactor to brace myself. I hit the ground with enough force to knock all the wind out of my lungs. I’m gasping for air at the same time I register it—the pain.
No, the fucking agony.
I look down to see my lower leg twisted at an unnatural angle. It hurts so badly, my vision blurs. I lie there panting, trying not to moan from the pain.
“Wren!” Evlynne’s voice sounds from five feet above.
I clench my teeth, trying to ignore the hot, searing waves shooting through my leg.
“Wren!” she says again, cutting through the agonizing haze.
When I try to lift myself up, a wave of nausea hits me. My body shudders from another white-hot, shooting pain.
“I can’t get up,” I call out, my voice weak. “I hurt my leg.”
“Godfucking damn it!” Over my pounding heart, I hear her muffled voice over my earpiece as she talks to Gray. “Darlington’s hurt. Try to buy us some time.”
“Hurt how?” is his sharp response.
She ignores him and scrambles to the edge of the ditch. “Take my hand,” she orders.
I raise my arm toward her, but she’s too far from me. When I attempt to crawl closer, it hurts so much that my world goes black at the edges for a few seconds, and I choke on the bile in my throat.
“I can’t,” I tell her, biting back screams of pain. “I can’t walk, let alone run. Go without me.”
Shock flashes on her face. “What?”
“Just go,” I repeat, as my vision fades in and out. I can scarcely breathe without feeling like I’m going to pass out. “Leave me behind.”
She hesitates, as if considering it, then shakes her head and once again tries to pull me out. But every attempt feels like I’m being stabbed with a jagged blade, scraping my broken bones.
“Wren!” Another bolt of panic shoots through me as Gray appears. When he sees me in the pit, his eyes fill with concern. “Fuck, cowgirl.”
A second later, he jumps down and tries to scoop me into his arms.
“I hear the truck,” Evlynne says in dismay. “Gray.”
I struggle in his grasp, resisting. “Stop,” I gasp. “You need to go. You won’t be able to jump back out holding me.”
“I’m not leaving you here.”
