“He’ll die.”
“He tried to kill people.”
“He’s still human.”
Dammit.
I stare at her for one long second while gunfire echoes outside.
This woman.
This impossible, infuriating woman.
Even now—
after being kidnapped,
dragged through a war zone,
held captive—
she still refuses to stop caring about people.
Even the ones who hurt her.
And somehow that makes me love her more.
The realization lands hard and final this time.
Not attraction.
Not attachment.
Love.
Real.
Terrifying.
Complete.
“Hannah,” I say roughly, “we cannot save everybody.”
Pain flickers briefly across her face.
Not because she doesn’t know that.
Because she does.
And she hates it anyway.
Before she can answer, the wounded militia man suddenly grabs weakly at my vest.
Dark eyes lock onto mine.
Then toward Hannah.
“North bridge,” he rasps painfully.
