Chapter 27 Lark
Lark
Location: In Transit — Escape Vehicle
Time: Minutes Later
My hands are shaking.
Not from fear.
From everything after it.
Adrenaline burns off fast. What’s left behind is heavier. Slower. Real.
The car smells like gunpowder, blood, and smoke that hasn’t settled yet.
Aaron is driving.
Too fast.
Too controlled.
Too quiet.
He’s bleeding.
Not a lot.
But enough.
“You’re hit,” I say.
“Later.”
“No. Now.”
My voice is steadier than I feel.
I reach for the med kit Ronan shoved into the console before we tore out of the loading bay. My fingers fumble for a second—just a second—before I get control back.
Focus.
I press the gauze against his shoulder.
He hisses under his breath.
“That bad?” I ask.
“That’s necessary,” I answer, already working.
I shift closer, bracing myself against the seat as the car takes a sharp turn. My knee presses against his thigh. My shoulder brushes his arm.
Neither of us pulls away.
I clean the wound quickly.
Efficient.
Precise.
But I feel him watching me.
Not the injury.
Me.
I glance up.
And there it is.
That look.
Like he’s checking for something.
Like he’s making sure I’m still here.
Still real.
Still breathing.
“You shouldn’t have been here,” he says.
It’s not anger.
It’s not accusation.
It’s something deeper.
“I know,” I reply softly. “But you still came.”
Silence fills the car.
Heavy.
Full.
The kind that says more than words ever could.
The road hums beneath us. The engine pushes harder. The night blurs past the windows.
Then—
Very quietly—
“I thought I lost you.”
It almost doesn’t sound like him.
That crack in his voice.
Small.
Controlled.
But there.
Something in my chest tightens.
I finish securing the bandage, then slide my hand down over his.
Warm.
Solid.
Real.
“You didn’t,” I say gently. “And you won’t.”
His jaw tightens.
Emotion locked down again—but not gone.
“You don’t get to scare me like that.”
I turn toward him fully now.
“You don’t get to walk away from me like that.”
The words land between us.
Sharp.
Honest.
No hiding.
His grip shifts slightly under my hand.
Not pulling away.
Not holding tighter.
Just… staying.
We look at each other.
Not arguing.
Not apologizing.
Just seeing.
Really seeing.
Ronan’s voice cuts through the moment like a needle through thread.
“You two done emotionally bleeding, or should I give you another minute?”
Aaron exhales, something almost like a laugh under it. “What?”
“You didn’t just escape,” Ronan says.
Aaron glances at me, then back to the road. “We didn’t?”
“No,” Ronan replies, tone turning serious. “You just burned one of their primary nodes.”
I sit back slightly.
That lands.
Hard.
“And?” I ask.
Ronan pauses just long enough to make it matter.
“And they’re about to realize… Lark didn’t come out empty-handed.”
My pulse steadies.
Not fear.
Not anymore.
Awareness.
Because this?
This isn’t over.
Not even close.