Chapter 33 Ethan
Ethan
The helicopter blades tear through the night.
Loud.
Relentless.
The sound vibrates through the ground, through my chest—something solid to hold onto while everything else feels like it’s still shifting.
I help Ava up first.
My hand closes around hers—and stays there.
She steps toward the chopper without hesitation, hauling herself up like nothing’s wrong.
But I feel it.
The way her grip tightens just a fraction.
The way her breath catches before she steadies it again.
She’s hurting.
Of course she is.
Aaron watches from the side as we load in.
Gives me a look.
Half amused.
Half warning.
Don’t lose it.
Too late.
The doors slam shut.
The world narrows.
We lift.
And suddenly—
there’s nowhere else to look.
Nowhere else to focus.
Just her.
Right in front of me.
Blood still seeping through the bandage at her side.
“Sit.”
She lifts a brow slightly, easing down onto the bench.
“Bossy.”
“Yeah.”
I don’t apologize.
Don’t soften it.
She settles anyway.
I drop in front of her, already pulling the med kit free, hands moving before I think.
Jonah glances over.
“She good?”
“No.”
Ava rolls her eyes.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding through a field wrap.”
“Still fine.”
I look up at her.
Flat.
She exhales through her nose.
“Okay… less fine.”
Better.
I cut through the bandage carefully.
The fabric sticks for a second—
then peels away.
My jaw tightens.
Clean entry wound.
But deeper than it should be.
Too deep for her to have walked around on.
Too deep for her to still be standing like this.
Anger burns low and steady in my chest.
“Who treated this?”
“I did.”
Of course.
“With what?”
She shrugs one shoulder, like it doesn’t matter.
“That guard didn’t need his kit anymore.”
Jesus.
I work fast.
Gauze.
Pressure.
Assess.
But my hands—
they’re not as steady as they should be.
Not with her sitting this close.
Not with this much blood.
Not after almost losing her again.
She notices.
Of course she does.
She always does.
“Ethan.”
I don’t look up.
“Hold still.”
“I am.”
The words are quiet.
Careful.
The helicopter hum fills the space between us, loud enough to drown everything else—except the tension.
Then—
her fingers brush my wrist.
Light.
Barely there.
But it stops me.
Grounds me.
“I’m okay,” she says softly.
I pause.
Just for a second.
Then I look up.
Really look at her.
“You were bleeding out alone.”
Her eyes don’t waver.
“I didn’t die.”
“That’s not good enough.”
The words come out sharper than I meant.
Too real.
Something shifts.
Deeper this time.
She studies me like she’s memorizing something.
Like she’s trying to hold onto it.
“I missed you.”
Simple.
No defense.
No distance.
That hits harder than anything else tonight.
My hand presses fresh gauze to her side, more careful now.
More deliberate.
“You’re going to be okay.”
Not a question.
She watches me like it’s already true.
Like it always was.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“I am.”
I wrap the bandage tight.
Secure.
Finish the job.
But my hand doesn’t leave right away.
It lingers.
Just for a second too long.
Her breath catches.
Barely.
But I feel it.
God, I feel everything when it comes to her.
Across the chopper—
Aaron clears his throat loudly.
“Just so we’re all aware—this is still a team mission.”
Jonah snorts.
Ronan doesn’t even look up.
Ava lets out a quiet breath that almost turns into a laugh.
I don’t move.
Don’t look away.
“Later,” I murmur.
Her lips curve slightly.
“Later.”