I cup the back of her neck gently. “They’ll get the rest.”
“And Hannah?”
“Yes.”
“Stephen?”
“Yes.”
She studies my face like she’s searching for cracks in the promise.
I don’t give her any.
Even if I have to burn this entire operation to the ground myself.
The truck team pushes closer.
Miles drops another shooter.
Still too many angles.
I rise long enough to fire over the bank.
One hostile drops.
Another ducks behind the truck.
Then Olivia grabs my wrist.
“Russ.”
I look down.
And cold terror tears through me instantly.
She’s too pale.
Lips trembling.
Eyes struggling to stay focused.
“Hey. No.”
“Tired,” she whispers.
Ice floods my chest.
“No. Look at me.”
Her eyes flutter slowly.
“Olivia.”
I catch her face between my hands, ignoring everything else.
“Look at me.”
Her gaze finally finds mine again.
