Faron (The Golden Team #8)

19. Faron

Faron

T wo days later, I was back in the dirt where I belonged.

The sun rose over a Venezuelan jungle that smelled like piss and smoke and ghosts. I crouched beside Cyclone and River, eyes locked on a compound that looked like it’d fall over if we sneezed too hard.

Cyclone checked his rifle. River whispered something under his breath.

I didn’t pray.

I just thought about Blue.

Her laugh. Her mouth. Her fire.

And I decided I was done waiting.