Against her ear, for her only, I say, “Breathe with me, sweetheart.”
When she doesn’t, I coax her a second time. “Match my rhythm.” Using every trick I know, I try to bring her back into her body.
Against my jacket, her fingers twitch. Then she makes a broken noise—fear, grief. “It’s m-my fault.”
Goddamn it. Of course she believes that.
“Hey.” I angle her chin just enough that I can see her eyes. “Not your fault. None of this.”
Her lip trembles.
I trace one of her eyebrows. “Just stay with me.”
Hawkeye watches us, his expression unreadable.
“We’re ten minutes out,” he says, finally. “The Winter Park safehouse. Dr. Brandt on standby.”
The words should steady me.
They don’t.
Because Allie is still shaking so violently; I can feel it in my bones.
Because she’s gone pale.
Because she keeps drifting—eyes fluttering, breath hitching.
Because when the turbulence hits, she lets out a tiny, terrified sound and hides her face in my chest.
I cradle the back of her head with my palm.
“Not letting you go,” I whisper. “Not for one goddamn second.”
And I mean it.
Finally the helicopter banks, and snow-covered ridges blur beneath us.
Hawkeye’s on his mic, coordinating with Bravo, his voice a low rumble under the mechanical roar.
But my focus stays where it belongs—on the woman trembling in my arms, the woman who survived hell today, the woman I almost lost.
The woman who’s coming to mean more to me than anyone ever has.
I will burn the world to protect her.
The helicopter descends toward the safehouse—its silhouette a sharp set of rooflines tucked against a rise of pines, tall windows glowing with warm, amber light.
I know they’re reinforced. The entire place has been designed to look like a high-end mountain lodge instead of what it really is: a fortress.
Allie stirs weakly against me as we hit turbulence again.
My heart tries to punch a hole through my ribs.
The bird drops lower, the rotors kick snow across the clearing in a wide halo, and the safehouse comes into full view.
The skids touch down, and the medic unclips first.
Hawkeye stands, bracing a hand on the overhead rail. “Let’s move out.” Even above the deafening roar, his voice is clear.
