Page 37 of Keeping a Warrior

Keening like a wounded animal, Devon kicked wildly out at Matt, who let go of her and fell square on his ass, his mouth open in shock.

“Back off,” Rhys yelled at the guys as several of them moved to restrain her, trying to help. “Just back off.”

Her hand scrabbled desperately about her thigh, searching for something. Her knife. The tumble she’d taken had ripped the sheath right off her leg. It was lying not far from Rhys, so he picked it up and tossed it to her.

“Devon...” he whispered.

At the sound of her name, Devon blinked, awareness flooding back into her face.

Smudge jogged back over. “Ambulance called. Is she gonna be okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Physically, at least. God, Devon, what happened to you?

Devon was calmer now. The guys had crouched down and were watching her solemnly.

At last she scrubbed one hand over the lower part of her face. “I’m sorry,” she rasped. “Forgot where I was for a moment.”

Nobody said anything, and Devon looked at Rhys. “Am I still in one piece?”

“From what I can tell.” Rhys kept his voice steady, although adrenaline was still roiling in his gut. “No broken bones, but I’d like you to go get checked out. Any time there’s a loss of consciousness—”

“Okay.” Devon didn’t argue. “My head is hurting like a bitch.”

Everyone fell silent, until Shane said quietly, “That was one hell of a recovery up there. Good job.”

“Yeah, way to battle. That was awesome.”

The guys grew animated as they discussed Devon’s free fall, interspersing it with stories of their own, and soon they got up and wandered away to gather their gear and give Devon some privacy.

She sat there, fiddling with her knife, until at last she looked over at Rhys with a bone-deep weariness on her face. “I’m sorry. When I came to, all I knew was that your hands were under my shirt and someone was holding down my legs.”

A lump rose into his throat. “Devon, I—”

“You weren’t doing anything wrong. It was just...”

When her voice trailed off, Rhys said softly, “A flashback?”

“Yeah.” Devon gazed at him steadily. “I told you Mullet’s facts were true.”

Rhys flinched, a mixture of grief and rage boiling through him. The words Who was it? bubbled to his lips, but he bit them back.

Just then came the sound of swiftly moving feet crunching along the path. Rhys moved out of the way and hovered nearby as the paramedics rushed to do their assessments.

“We’re gonna want to take you in for a CT scan,” one of them said to her. “Make sure there’s nothin’ goin’ on inside that noggin of yours, no internal bleeding.”

“It was just a hard landing. I’m fine,” Devon protested feebly, but Rhys was grateful she didn’t argue any more than that.

He walked with her to the ambulance and waited while she climbed inside.

“Want me to come with?” he asked, and she shook her head.

“I’ll be fine.” She paused. “Come find me when I’m released, though?”

“You got it.” With a pat to her booted foot, Rhys stepped back and let the paramedic close the doors. The ambulance rumbled off in a belch of exhaust.

For the rest of the day, the team worked on packing up their gear, and it was a subdued group that at last trudged into the training center meeting room to do the after-action report. When it came time to discuss Devon’s mishap, Rhys glared at the lead instructor, who wouldn’t meet his eyes.