Clutch was there, arms outstretched, catching her like he’d been waiting for that moment all night. His voice dropped low and steady against her temple. “I got you. I got you, Remi. You’re okay. You’re okay now.”
She tried to shake her head, her mouth moved to protest, but the words wouldn’t come. Her body folded into him, limp and done. Eyes fluttering shut, breath shallow.
“MEDIC!” I bellowed, panic seizing my chest. “We need a medic here now!”
The Dawnbreaker brothers moved like fire through the trees, emerging from smoke, clearing the perimeter, stripping weapons, checking for signs of life. Most of Erin’s people were already dead. A few had dropped their weapons. They were zip-tied and shoved to their knees, faces streaked with soot and defeat.
The smoke still hung low, thick as fog. The fire still crackled at the edges, casting an orange and red glow over the clearing.
Gray limped toward us, dragging a limp body by the collar and tossing it with brutal finality into the pile. His face was streaked with blood, jaw clenched tight.
“I’ve got a count,” he said. “We’re clear.”
Four handed Bishop off to two of our men, then turned to me. “You good?”
“No,” I said, voice wrecked. “But we will be.”
Ava was leaning against a tree, one arm around her ribs, chest heaving like she couldn’t quite catch her breath. I crossed to her, “I’ve got you,” I whispered, pressing my hand over hers.
“I’m fine,” she said, but her voice was shaking. “Just… bruised.”
She didn’t push me away, so I kept her close.
And then, through the brush, stumbling and frantic, came Jack.
“Remi!”
He barreled into the clearing, shirt torn, face pale and dirty, boots skidding on twigs and ash. He spotted her cradled in Clutch’s arms and rushed forward. “Let me take her, Clutch. Let me carry her, I can help...”
He never made it past the front line.
Three men stepped forward without a word: Four, Gray, and Reid.
Reid.
The rookie who used to bring Ava coffee with too much sugar, who had stars in his eyes whenever Remi smiled at him. But not now.
Now, his uniform was torn, his face bruised, and his posture was steel.
They didn’t raise their guns.
They didn’t need to.
Their stance alone was enough.
Low, animal growls rippled through them. Not a threat.
A promise.
Clutch didn’t even glance at Jack. Just said, flat as stone, “Not your job anymore, pretty boy.”
Jack stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at Remi, bleeding, unconscious, held like something sacred, and I saw the moment it hit him.
He was too late.
“You want to help?” Reid said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “Go make yourself useful. Start clearing the bodies. You don’t get to touch her.”
Jack’s mouth opened. Closed. He nodded and backed away, hands shaking.
