and there it was.
That tiny, unwilling, almost-smile she tried to hide every time I pulled her out of fear for a second.
I’d burn the world down to keep seeing that look.
The medic pressed harder against the wound.
Pain shot through my ribs hard enough my vision blurred briefly.
Flick immediately grabbed my hand.
Instinct.
No hesitation.
Her fingers threaded tightly through mine.
“I’m here,” she whispered quickly.
The words hit me harder than the damn bullet.
Because nobody had said words like that to me in a very long time.
Maybe ever.
The storm raged around us.
Shadow Division operators moved through the trees, securing bodies and weapons.
Rook stood farther uphill, speaking quietly into comms while Trigger coordinated perimeter teams.
But somehow?—
in the middle of all that violence?—
it suddenly felt strangely quiet between us.
Flick looked down at our joined hands like she just realized she was holding it.
Like she expected me to let go.
I tightened my grip immediately.
Not happening.
Her eyes slowly lifted back to mine.
Too many emotions there.
Fear.
Relief.
Love.
Yeah.
I saw that one too.
