59. Felicity
FELICITY
“HERSH!”
I tore free from Trigger’s grip before anybody could stop me.
Rain slammed into me instantly as I ran.
Mud slipped beneath my boots.
Gunfire echoed somewhere deeper in the trees.
Thunder rolled overhead like the mountain itself was angry.
“Hersh!”
No answer.
Fear clawed up my throat hard enough to choke me.
Behind me, Rook barked sharp orders.
“Wolf with me! Trigger hold the barn! Nobody touches that ledger!”
Flashlights cut through the darkness as Shadow Division spread across the ranch.
Searching.
Hunting.
But all I could hear was my own heartbeat.
And the terrible possibility that Shepherd finally killed him.
Branches whipped against my arms as I pushed toward the tree line.
Then—
another gunshot cracked through the storm.
Closer this time.
I froze.
Somewhere ahead?—
someone groaned.
“Hersh?”
I stumbled downhill through wet brush toward the sound.
Lightning flashed overhead?—
illuminating bodies scattered among the trees.
Three Hollow Men.
Dead.
One slumped against a rock with a knife buried to the hilt in his throat.
Another lay face-first in the mud.
The third?—
had clearly tried to crawl away before bleeding out.
Dear God.
Hersh did this.
A shadow suddenly moved behind me.
Strong arms grabbed my waist hard.
I gasped?—
then nearly collapsed in relief.
“Hersh.”
He spun me instantly against his chest beneath the pouring rain.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” he snapped.
Blood streaked down the side of his face.
Another dark stain spread across his shoulder.
Oh no.
“You’re hurt!”
“It’s nothing.”
Which meant it definitely wasn’t nothing.
I grabbed his jacket desperately.
“I heard the gunshot?—”
“You should’ve stayed in the barn.”
“You disappeared!”
Lightning flashed again.
And finally I saw his face clearly.
Fury still burned there.
But underneath it?
Fear.
Real fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
He cupped the back of my neck roughly.
“You cannot run into crossfire looking for me.”
Emotion crashed into me so hard my chest hurt.
“Then stop running toward death!”
The words broke out louder than I intended.
Pain flashed across his face instantly.
The storm raged around us.
Rain soaked through my clothes.
Blood stained his shoulder.
Bodies lay scattered in the trees.
And somehow this still felt like the most honest moment we’d ever had.
“I thought you were dead,” I whispered.
His jaw tightened hard.
“I’ve been dead before.”
“No.” Tears mixed with rain down my cheeks. “Not to me.”
Something in his expression cracked.
Just slightly.
Then voices shouted deeper in the woods.
“Hollow Men east side!”
“Movement!”
Hersh instantly pulled me behind him again.
Always protecting me.
A flashlight beam suddenly cut through the trees nearby.
Wolf emerged first with two Shadow Division operators behind him.
The second Wolf spotted me?—
his expression turned murderous.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“She followed me,” Hersh muttered.
“You let her follow you into an active kill zone?”
“I didn’t exactly schedule it!”
Another voice drifted through the darkness then.
Calm.
Closer.
“Touching reunion.”
Every weapon snapped toward the ridge instantly.
And there?—
standing between the trees in black tactical gear?—
was Shepherd.
Tall.
Broad.
Face partially shadowed beneath the rain.
But his eyes?—
cold almost black eyes fixed directly on Hersh.
No emotion in them at all.
Just calculation.
Just death.
Shepherd glanced briefly toward me.
Then back to Hersh.
“You always did choose the girl over the mission.”
Hersh raised his rifle slowly.
“You talk too much.”
Shepherd almost smiled.
“No. I simply know where to aim.”
Then his gaze shifted toward me again.
And my blood turned to ice.
Because this man wasn’t looking at me like a person.
He was looking at me like a weakness.
A target.
A weapon to use against Hersh.
Wolf subtly moved closer to my side.
Even he felt it.
The danger.
The absolute evil standing twenty yards away in the rain.
Shepherd’s attention returned to Hersh.
“You should’ve died in that canyon.”
Hersh’s voice lowered dangerously.
“You first.”
And then?—
Shepherd reached slowly into his vest.
Not for a weapon.
For a photograph.
He held it up between two gloved fingers.
Lightning flashed overhead.
And my stomach dropped.
Because even from here?—
I recognized the picture.
Sixteen-year-old me.
Standing outside the ranch house.
The same photo Hersh showed me earlier.
Shepherd tilted his head slightly.
“You know what your problem was, Blaze?”
The rain poured harder around us.
“You kept trying to save strangers.”
His eyes shifted to me.
“When you should’ve protected what mattered.”