But her body betrayed her, melting toward sleep despite her mind’s protests.
Why was he letting her go? He promised they were in this together?—
He stepped back as the strangers lifted her stretcher.
Liam?
The chopper’s blades created a relentless pulse that drowned out everything else. One last glimpse of Liam standing with the teenagers, face unreadable in the artificial light.
Then she faded into darkness.
She drifted. Time became elastic, unreliable.
When her eyes fluttered open again, she was inside the helicopter. Strangers hovering over her, their hands checking monitors and tubes.
Fragments of conversation penetrated the fog. “Internal bleeding.” “Hospital.” “Critical.”
Liam.
Her thoughts kept circling back to him. Why hadn’t he come with her?
The helicopter’s hum vibrated through her bones. Her eyes too heavy to keep open. She wanted to fight, to warn someone, but sleep pulled her under, into its murky, unfathomable depths.
Meg was about to shatter. Noah could see it written on her face.
Noah wrapped his arm around her shoulders as the helicopter lifted off into the night, rotor wash whipping dust and debris around them like a sandstorm.
“She’s going to be okay.”
Meg didn’t move, her eyes on the retreating bird, the darkness, the moonlight.
She had some sort of panic attack happening, if he read that right. Maybe they all did, seeing Nimue fading in front of them.
Meg had pulled off some kind of miracle keeping her alive until help showed up.
And now…yeah, the adrenaline flush could be a doozy. He pulled her close, shielding her from the chaos, but he could feel the tremors running through her body.
Thirty seconds. Maybe less before she completely fell apart.
And he couldn’t let that happen. Not in front of everyone.
He turned her away from the landing zone, scanning for somewhere private. Teenagers clustered everywhere, the remaining SAR team passing out food and water, Liam and Teague pacing around like caged animals.
Under normal circumstances, he’d go help. But right now, Meg needed him more than anyone else.
When she started shaking—really shaking, not just tremors—he made a command decision. He bent down, scooped her up under her knees, and carried her around a massive rock outcropping.
Empty. Thank you.
He set her down gently, settled beside her on the cold stone. He didn’t know what to say. During his darkest days after Mary’s death, the most helpful thing had been when someone just chose to be present. No words. No platitudes. Just…there.
He should grab water though. He started to stand, but her hand clamped onto his arm.
“Just getting water.”
She shook her head, eyes still unfocused, lost somewhere he couldn’t follow.
He wrapped his arm back around her shoulders. She melted into his side like she belonged there.
