Viper’s teeth flashed in the dark, a feral grin that sent a chill down Reaper’s spine.
Oh. Shit.
“Send me a Ghost Rider, STAT.”
Fuck, they were way too close to the target for a Lockheed AC-130 gunship to join the fight.
“No way,” TOC shot back, tense. “You’re too close. Not happening, J-Tac.”
Viper didn’t hesitate. “KD, send it,” he yelled over the gunfire.Kelvin Dare, send it.
Reaper ignored the request from his commanding officer that might kill them all. Because if Kaze didn’t get his bleeding stopped, he was dying anyway.
“Stay with me, Three.” He fished his medkit from where he’d stashed it behind the plate in his chest rig.
Where the hell is Juice?
Kaze coughed, a wet, rattling sound, but when he grinned, his teeth were stained red. “Not dying,” he wheezed, “before I see you and Pretty Boy make it official.”
“Damn straight, you’re not.”
“Put QuikClot in. I’ll get up in a sec.”
“Dude, they’d have to cut that shit out of you.” A bullet whined past his head, but he still managed to get the pressure bandage on the hole in Kaze’s chest. “This is gonna hurtlike a motherfucking bitch.” He pressed down hard, wincing at the scream he drew from his friend.
A fresh volley of gunfire tore through the night, the muzzle flashes lighting up the darkness like hellfire. Cian’s blood sang in his veins. He wasn’t just fighting for the team anymore.
He was fighting forthem.
For the quiet mornings and the stolen moments. For the way Cian’s voice dropped when he whispered his name. For the future that flickered on the horizon, if only he was brave enough to keep it. If that meant burning this entire godforsaken field to the ground via one big-ass gunship to have his brothers survive and get back to Cian alive? Then let the fucker burn.
The gunship’s minigun chewed through the earth as rounds stitched the dirt into explosive geysers. Reaper pressed Kaze’s body deeper into the mud, his own weight pinning them both as the world turned to thunder and fire. Juice and Zero piled on top, a tangle of limbs and gear, as they kept as many armored plates between the wounded Kaze and the bullets falling around them. The heat of the gunship’s muzzle flashes seared Reaper’s skin even through the haze of dust.
“Hold the fuck on!” Viper’s voice cut through the chaos, raw with command.
Reaper barely even dared to breathe. The gunship’s next pass would turn them into shredded meat if they didn’t move. His fingers dug into Kaze’s vest, the fabric slick beneath his grip. Kaze’s pulse was weak but steady under his palm.
Alive is good enough for now.
Then, like a goddamn miracle, the gunship banked hard, and its roar faded into the distance. The night soon swallowed the sound whole, leaving only a deafening ring of silence in its wake.
“Exfil’s inbound!” Trace dragged Juice to his feet.
The helo touched down before the words even registered, its rotors kicking up a maelstrom of debris. Reaper didn’t wait for permission. He hooked his arms under Kaze’s armpits and heaved, ignoring the white-hot flare of pain in his shoulder where the round had grazed him. Zero and Juice grabbed Kaze’s legs, and they moved as one, a single unit racing for the helo.
The helo’s doors beckoned them with the promise of safety. Reaper’s boots pounded against the metal as they hauled Kaze inside, collapsing onto the deck in a heap of blood and exhaustion. The medic jumped straight in with practiced precision—tourniquet, pressure dressing, the sharp snap of an IV bag being torn open.
“Talk to me, Three!”
Kaze’s eyelids fluttered at the sound of his voice. His lips moved, but the words were lost under the scream of the engines as the helo lurched skyward.
“Got you good, didn’t he?” The medic’s voice was teasing.
Kaze grinned. Blood smeared his teeth, but his eyes were sharp, defiant. “Told you… not dying… before the wedding.”
A laugh tore out of Reaper, and he sagged back against the helo’s bulkhead. The adrenaline crash hit him likea freight train. His hands shook. His entire body trembled with the aftershock of it—how close they’d come to losing Kaze.
Viper dropped beside him, his face streaked with grime. “We’re clear,” he said, voice rough.“TOC’s calling it. We’re RTB.”
