Her heart slammed into her throat as she turned toward him.His head had snapped forward, blood streaking down from his temple, dark against his skin.
“No,” she whispered, hands shaking as she reached for him.Fingers checked his pulse, his breathing, grounding herself in the fact that both were steady and strong and that he was still here.Still alive.
She knew, with terrifying clarity, that the Covenant was coming.
She also knew it wouldn’t be fast enough.
Doors opened from the two vehicles stopped on the road across from the wreckage.
Four men emerged wearing masks and with weapons already drawn.Their movements were efficient, unhurried.These men were professionals.
She reached for Luca’s gun.
The moment her fingers wrapped around the grip, something in her settled.The tremor in her hands stilled.Fear didn’t disappear—but it sharpened, focused.Angles.Distance.Cover.The car’s reinforced frame was pressed tight against the hillside on Luca’s side, earth and metal shielding him completely.
They could only come from one direction.
Mara dropped back into the car instead of forward, instincts snapping into place.
The doors were twisted but intact.The windows—thick, reinforced—were spider-webbed but holding.She shoved herself against the center console, wedging her body low against the seat, knowing that the hillside and the car’s armored frame covered Luca completely.
They shouted at her from outside.
“Come with us, Mara,” one of the men called.His voice was distorted by the mask.Calm.Almost reasonable.“We don’t want him.We’ll leave him alive.”
Mara barked a laugh, sharp and feral.“You picked the wrong fucking day.”
She reached for the recessed latch built into the door frame—one Luca had shown her once, offhand, like it was nothing.The armored glass lifted just enough to create a narrow firing slit.
“Last chance,” the man said.“Don’t be stupid.”
Mara leaned in close to the opening.“Get fucked.”
She fired.
The shot punched through the gap.The man went down hard, momentum carrying him forward before gravity finished the job.
Gunfire erupted in response.
Rounds slammed into the window.The glass fractured violently, a spider-web of cracks exploding outward.Shards sprayed inward, slicing her cheek and shoulder.She hissed but didn’t move.
The glass held.
She smiled through blood.“That all you’ve got?”
The second man tried to reposition, edging wider, searching for an angle.
Mara tracked him, breath steady, heart hammering.
She fired again.
He dropped with a sound that cut off mid-breath.
Her ears rang.Her arms burned.The car smelled of cordite and shattered glass.
The remaining two slowed, reassessing.One lifted a hand to his ear, speaking urgently into comms.
Mara shifted the gun back toward the opening, finger tightening.
