“Go,” I repeat, sharper. “Get to the compound. Make sure Jesse’s out.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“You’re not leaving me,” I snap. “You’re getting our son out of here.”
Another roar splits the air.
The beast turns its massive head, scanning the terrain.
Scanning for movement.
For targets.
“Tilda,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “Listen to me.”
Her jaw tightens.
“If that thing reaches the daycare before security gets everyone out?—”
“I know,” she cuts in, voice shaking.
“Then go.”
For a second I think she’s going to argue again.
Then she grabs the front of my shirt and yanks me down into a hard, desperate kiss.
“Don’t die,” she breathes against my mouth.
“Not planning on it.”
“You don’t get to be heroic and stupid at the same time.”
“I contain multitudes.”
She almost smiles.
Then she shoves me back.
“Draw it away,” she says. “Buy them time.”
“Always my favorite hobby.”
“Bron.”
I meet her eyes.
Something unspoken passes between us.
Everything we didn’t say.
Everything we don’t have time to say.
“Go,” I tell her softly.
She goes.
No hesitation.
