Chapter 113 Adam
Adam
We rolled out before the sun broke full over the gulf. Engines low, lights off, the convoy nothing more than shadows slipping into the road.
The victims we rescued had been taken to the hospital, and Texas Rangers were guarding them.
Boone typed away in the passenger seat, feeding intel into channels that still hadn’t been compromised.
Hawk and Blade took point, their silhouettes sharp against the dawn's glow, while Logan covered the rear, rifle steady, jaw clenched as usual.
And Raine—she sat beside me, pistol across her lap, gray light catching in her hair.
We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Her hand rested over mine on the shifter, steady, certain, hers.
The war wasn’t over. Hell, it was only just beginning. Boone’s intel had painted the next battlefield clear—San Marcos, bigger and dirtier than Corpus, waiting for us to walk into their trap.
But I’d walked into worse. I’d buried worse. And this time, I wasn’t alone.
I glanced at Raine, caught the curve of her mouth when she felt my eyes, and for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t look like fire and ash. It looked like us.
Whatever San Marcos held, whatever shadows came after, Adam Stoker wasn’t fighting it alone.
Not anymore.