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* * *
Crouched on the rocky ground,with only the faint illumination from her flashlight to help her see, Gemma stroked Atlas’ side.
Waiting was horrible. Her brain was doing its best to come up with the worst possible scenarios.
“God,” she said shakily.
Boone and Shep were out there, fighting to protect her. They were risking themselves for her.
Sensing her anxiety, Atlas rose and pressed against her. She buried her face in his fur.
“He’ll be okay, right? He’ll come back to us.”
Suddenly, she felt a vibration beneath her, and in the distance, a faint muffled explosion. Atlas tensed.
“Oh, no.” She couldn’t just sit here. What if Boone needed help? She rose. She just needed to check was what going on. “Come on, Atlas. We’ll just have a little look.”
She moved back down the tunnel at a jog, praying she didn’t take a wrong turn. The place was creepy as hell.
She got to the entrance and hovered at the doorway. Beside her, Atlas whined.
“I know. You’re worried about him too.” She stroked the dog’s back. “He’ll be all right.”
She wanted to fall in love with Boone Hendrix. The words resonated through her. She’d already started that fall, and it was exciting, scary, exhilarating.
But it also felt right. Like coming home to where she belonged.
She shoved the metal door open, and it screeched angrily. Then she stepped outside and tried to see down the tree-lined hillside.
Her stomach clenched. She saw smoke rising from the direction of the cabins.No. She heard distant shouts and squeezed her eyes closed.
Then she noted the gunfire. She sucked in a breath. That had to mean that Boone and Shep were still alive and fighting back.
Please be okay.
“Come on, Atlas.” She stepped back into the gloom of the tunnel, and tugged the door closed behind her. She wouldn’t put herself at risk and make things harder for Boone.
With the dog by her side, she moved back through the tunnels, taking left turns, until she reached her hiding spot.
She slid down the wall and sat with her knees up.
All she could do was wait. And pray that Boone would be safe.
He’d been in Ghost Ops. He was good at this. The best. And he had Shep helping him.
“Come back to me, Boone.”
* * *
From the trees,Boone looked at the smoking ruin of one of Shep’s cabins. The flames flickered greedily over the wood.
“Motherfuckers,” Shep said, staring at the fire.
“Sorry, man.”
“You don’t need to be sorry.” He hefted his rifle. “But I’ll make sure those assholes regret it.”
“Plan? We don’t know how many are left.”
