I hold her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other braced between her shoulders. I press my face into her hair as rain pours harder around us and let myself feel it. The heat of her skin. The uneven pull of her breath. The reality of her here with me. Relief hits so hard it nearly takes my legs out from under me.
She presses her face into the side of my neck, her breath breaking unevenly against my skin.
I cup her face in both hands and kiss her again. Her mouth trembles beneath mine. She tastes like blood and rain. I slide my hand to the back of her neck and pull her closer, deepening the kiss as the storm soaks through both of us.
Footsteps break through the moment.
I pull away and turn in one clean motion, gun already up. I fire twice. The first shot catches the guard in the shoulder and spins him off balance. The second goes straight through his face. He hits the ground with a heavy, final thud.
Brooke flinches at the sound, her breath hitching, but her arms stay tight around me.
She doesn't let go.
Beau’s voice cuts through the trees. “You two can reconnect later. We need to move. Now!”
I look down at her. Her eyes are wide and glassy, shock clinging to her like a second skin.
I press my forehead to hers for half a second.
Then I take her hand and we run.
We tear through the trees, my arm locked tight around Brooke’s waist. Blood seeps from her shoulder, dripping onto leaves and roots, marking our path through the underbrush. I keep her pulled close, my body angled between hers and the gunfire cracking behind us.
Every shot I take is fast and precise. One guard drops with a round through the skull. Another goes down screaming after I shatter his kneecap and leave him where he falls. I don't give them time to recover. I don't give them time to aim.
“Watch the ground,” Brooke gasps, her voice raw. “They set traps.”
I tighten my hold on her and slow just enough to scan the path ahead. A faint glint catches my eye. Thin wire stretches between two trees. I yank her back a step and shift us sideways. I fire through the brush ahead without hesitation. A man screams, then collapses out of sight before we even see his face.
The trees open into a clearing.
Boots thunder behind us.
I spin and fire twice. Another guard drops into the clearing.
Beau bursts in from the left, weapon up, moving with ruthless efficiency. He takes down two more guards before I can speak. The third turns to run. I catch him mid-step, one clean shot to the spine. He hits the ground face-first.
We keep moving.
We burst through a side entrance of the manor, the door slamming back against the wall as I take point. My pistol tracks the hallway, my arm steady as I clear corners and doorframes.
Brooke stays tight on my right. Her breathing comes ragged and uneven, each step a fraction slower than the last. Her weight shifts wrong, like she is compensating for pain she refuses to acknowledge.
A door creaks open ahead of us.
The physician steps into the hallway slowly with his hands raised, his palms open to show he is unarmed. His face has gone pale, and his eyes move between the gun in my hand and Brooke standing behind me.
I keep the pistol trained on him.
“Did he help you escape?” I ask.
Brooke looks at the physician. For a moment she doesn't move, her chest lifting as if she is about to speak.
“Seth, wait—”
The words catch before she finishes them.
That hesitation is enough.
