No blood.
No wounds.
Just fear.
Good.
That’s survivable.
“Olivia.”
Russ’s voice cuts through the gunfire from directly in front of me.
I look up.
Big mistake.
Because he’s crouched right there close enough to touch, rifle in one hand while his eyes sweep quickly over me.
“You hit?”
“No.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
His gaze narrows slightly like he’s checking for lies.
Then finally he nods once.
Barely.
“Stay here.”
“I’m not staying behind while you—”
“Stay.”
That tone again.
Firm.
Protective.
Absolutely immovable.
I open my mouth anyway. “I can help.”
“You are helping.” His voice lowers slightly. “By staying alive.”
The words hit harder than the gunfire.
Not tactical.
Not strategic.
Personal.
