His eyebrows lift slightly.
Right.
Technically I passed out.
I hate that he’s right about that too.
“You lost a lot of blood,” he says quietly.
“I’m still here.”
“Barely.”
The word lands harder than I expect.
Not because he’s being cruel.
Because he sounds scared.
And somehow that’s worse.
I look away first.
Need distance.
Need control.
Need—
“Movement.”
Lucas’s whisper cuts across the ridge instantly.
Every muscle in my body locks.
Clay slides forward beside him while Russ shifts closer to the edge of the rocks.
I carefully lean up enough to look down into the valley.
At first, nothing.
Then—
There.
A figure weaving between the rocks below.
Another appears seconds later.
Armed.
Searching.
My pulse drops cold.
“Scouts,” Clay murmurs.
Russ nods once. “Tracking pattern.”
