For the first time in months, my heart is beating again.
She hasn’t stopped staring at me since I hauled her back onto solid ground.
But that’s okay. Because I haven’t stopped staring ather.
She’s here.
She’s alive.
She’s never looked more beautiful to me.
As her honey-yellow eyes remain locked with mine, a flood of emotion fills every crack and crevice in my chest. In the space of a heartbeat, everything comes rushing back to me. The love I feel for her. The pain of losing her. The agony of grieving for her.
“You’re alive,” I say, my voice breaking with disbelief.
Her brow dips as she frowns. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
A laugh chokes my throat. Whywouldn’tshe be? Godfucking damn it. She has no idea.
Her presence pulls me in like a gravitational field. I’m walking to her before I even realize it, tugging her into my arms. Yet I don’t even have time to savor this moment, the feel of her body pressed against mine.
I grip her shoulders gently. “We have to go.”
She frowns again. “I don’t understand. Why are you here? How did you—”
“We have to go,” I repeat. “I stole the chopper from base. It’s not logged out, so it’ll be tracked in minutes.”
To her credit, Wren doesn’t argue. Although she stumbles slightly, she allows me to drag her to the helo.
“Cross, what’s happening? Why did you think I was dead?”
“Later,” I say. “Get on.”
The wind off the water and from the still-spinning rotors whips her brown hair around her head as I help her into the cockpit. It isn’t until I’m settled in the pilot’s seat that I realize she’s hurt. She’s clutching her arm, which is stained with blood.
“Gunshot,” she mumbles when she catches me looking, and pure rage boils in my gut.
I don’t have time to dwell on that. I’ll murder whoever shot her later. I slam the throttle forward and the helo lurches upward. Seconds later, we break free of the cliff and into the open sky, relief filling my chest.
Wren’s face is pale, eyes wide.
But she’s alive.
Alive.
“Where are we going?” Her voice is weak, hard to hear over the engine and rotors.
I pause, my brain scanning through the options. I wasn’t expecting to be in this position when I went to bed tonight. When that pull of energy woke me from a dead sleep and basically possessed me to go to the hangar, to board this helo, to start the engine, to fly to Valterra Ridge of all places. I didn’t have a plan then, only an eerie, confusing sensation in my chest, and I don’t have a plan now.
“Heath’s End,” I finally decide. “There’s an old airfield on the north part of the island where we can land.”
As I get us higher in the air, I can’t stop glancing over at the copilot’s seat.
“Why are you staring at me, Wolf?”
“I thought you were dead.” My voice is hoarse to my own ears.
“I gathered.” Her forehead creases. “Butwhy?”
