Chapter 25
JOLIE
The rock beneath me holds heat like it’s alive, radiating upward through my legs and into my core until it feels like my body is cooking from both sides, and the air in the basin doesn’t move so much as churn.
The smell hits hardest when I breathe too deep, thick with copper and decay, something rotting beneath the surface that clings to the back of my throat and refuses to leave.
Sweat runs into my eyes, stinging, cutting lines through the dust ground into my skin, and I blink hard as I track movement below.
They don’t rush anymore.
That’s what makes it worse.
The creatures circle in widening arcs that slowly tighten again, their bodies low and controlled, blending into the sand until they shift just enough to give themselves away.
One pauses near the edge of a shadow cast by the rock, its body still, almost invisible, while another drifts farther out, widening the angle like it’s testing how far it can stretch the perimeter before I react.
“Yeah,” I murmur, shifting my grip on the sidearm as my fingers tremble against the frame. “Take your time and map it out, because I’m not coming down there to help you.”
My ribs flare the second I adjust, the pain sharp and immediate, and I suck in a breath that scrapes going down before I can stop it. I lean back just enough to take pressure off my side, keeping my weight balanced over my feet, even as my leg threatens to give under me.
“You’re fine,” I mutter under my breath, forcing my stance to hold. “You’ve been worse off than this, so stop acting like this is the one that takes you out.”
The wind shifts above the basin, the sound of it scraping along the ridge filtering down in a distorted hiss, and a thin sheet of sand slides across the ground below, briefly obscuring movement. One of them uses it, darting forward and then freezing again, testing distance.
I track it, raising the weapon, but I don’t fire.
“Not wasting it on that,” I say quietly. “You’re gonna have to commit.”
Another one circles closer, dragging its path just a little tighter than before, and I adjust my stance again, the motion slower this time, more deliberate as my muscles start to protest.
“You’re closing in,” I mutter, watching the pattern shift. “Yeah, I see it, so let’s stop pretending this is going to drag out forever.”
It lunges.
I fire.
The recoil snaps through my arm, sharp and grounding, and the creature drops mid-motion, its body slamming into the sand hard enough to kick dust up into the air.
The others scatter, but only briefly, regrouping faster this time, their movements sharper, more coordinated as they close the space I just created.
“Great,” I breathe, resetting my aim as my arm shakes harder now. “You learn quick, don’t you.”
Another one darts in low from the left, faster than the last, and I pivot into it, firing again. The shot clips it, not clean, and it stumbles before regaining footing, dragging one side as it pulls back.
“Not dead,” I mutter, shifting my weight. “That’s going to come back to bite me.”
They tighten their circle again, pushing closer, testing my reaction time, and I feel the delay creeping in, the fraction of a second where my body doesn’t respond as fast as it should.
“You’re slowing down,” I whisper, more to myself than anything else. “That’s a problem, so fix it.”
My hand tightens around the weapon, forcing stability back into it, and I adjust my stance again, ignoring the way my leg trembles under the shift.
“Come on,” I say under my breath. “One at a time, I can handle that, so don’t get creative.”
They don’t listen.
The one I lost track of moves first, surging up the rock at an angle I didn’t think it could manage, claws scraping against the surface as it closes distance faster than I can fully process.
“Yeah, no,” I snap, twisting and firing at close range.
The shot hits, knocking it sideways, but the sudden movement pulls me off balance, my foot slipping against the heated rock as my center shifts too far forward.
“Damn it,” I hiss, catching myself with one hand before I go over the edge with it.
The world tilts hard for a second, my vision narrowing as I fight to regain control, but the stumble costs me.
They push.
All of them.
From different angles.
Too fast.
Too close.
I fire again, one shot, then another, forcing my arm to keep moving even as the strain builds, but the timing is off now, my reactions just slow enough that the gap starts to close.
“This is it,” I breathe, the realization settling in without panic, just—
Clarity.
Because I can see how it ends from here.
Because I know the distance.
Because I know I don’t have enough left to keep this up much longer.
“You had a good run,” I mutter, a dry edge slipping into my voice as I track the next movement. “Real impressive, honestly.”
One of them lunges—
And something slams into it from the side hard enough to snap its trajectory mid-air.
The impact is wrong, violent in a way that doesn’t match my shots, and the creature hits the ground with a heavy, broken sound that cuts through everything else.
My head snaps toward it, vision sharpening as something else moves through the basin.
Another one drops.
Not from my shot.
From his.
“Get down!” the voice cuts across the space, sharp and immediate.
I don’t question it.
My body reacts before my brain catches up, dropping lower against the rock as another shot cracks past me, close enough that I feel the displacement of air.
I turn—
And there he is.
Hrask moves through the basin like he’s done this a hundred times, his steps controlled, deliberate, each motion cutting through the chaos instead of reacting to it.
His weapon comes up, fires, resets, fires again, each shot precise enough to drop anything that gets too close without wasting movement.
“You’re late,” I rasp, because apparently that’s what comes out when my brain finally catches up.
He doesn’t look at me right away, his attention locked on the movement below as he adjusts his position, drawing them away from the rock.
“Yeah,” he shoots back, voice tight but steady. “Had to make a stop.”
Another one breaks toward him from the side, fast enough to make me tense, but he pivots into it like he expected it, firing once and stepping through the space it occupied without breaking stride.
“You always pick the worst places to hold out,” he mutters, scanning the remaining movement.
“I didn’t pick it,” I snap, pushing myself upright despite the way my ribs protest the motion. “It was this or getting torn apart out in the open.”
“Next time,” he says dryly, “aim for somewhere less hostile.”
Another creature lunges at him from behind, and I react without thinking, raising my weapon and firing.
The shot lands clean.
It drops.
He glances back at me then, just long enough for something sharper to flicker across his expression.
“Still shooting straight,” he says.
“Don’t get used to it,” I shoot back, even as my arm trembles again.
His gaze shifts immediately, scanning me in a way that feels more thorough than it should in the middle of this.
“You’re hurt,” he says, already moving closer.
“I’m functional,” I reply, adjusting my stance.
“You’re barely upright,” he counters, stopping just below the rock.
“I’ve been worse,” I say, though the words come out tighter than I want.
“Yeah,” he says, looking up at me. “And I’m guessing you ignored that too.”
Another movement shifts at the edge of the basin, and he fires without looking, the shot dropping it before it can close distance.
“Get down here,” he says, his tone shifting from dry to firm.
I glance at the remaining movement, then back at him.
“They’re still circling,” I say.
“I’ve got it covered,” he replies. “You don’t need to win this, you just need to not die here.”
“That was the plan,” I mutter, shifting toward the edge.
The descent is worse than the climb, my balance unreliable, my strength inconsistent, and I lower myself carefully, one hand braced against the rock as my foot searches for stable ground.
“Careful,” he says, stepping closer.
“I’ve got it,” I snap, even as my footing slips.
He catches me before I can argue about it, his hand locking around my arm, steadying me as I drop the rest of the way down.
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Looked like you had it.”
“Don’t start,” I shoot back, though the edge in my voice softens just slightly.
He doesn’t let go right away, adjusting my stance until I’m stable, his grip firm but controlled.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, his gaze dropping to my side.
“I noticed,” I reply.
“More than you should be,” he adds.
“I’m still here,” I counter.
“For now,” he says, lifting his gaze back to mine.
The moment stretches, something heavier settling in beneath everything else, and I feel it even through the exhaustion.
“You came,” I say, quieter now.
“Yeah,” he replies, just as steady. “I did, so don’t make it pointless.”
Another sound shifts at the edge of the basin, and both of us turn toward it at the same time, weapons rising in sync as what’s left of the threat starts to reposition.
“Later,” he mutters.
“Yeah,” I agree, tightening my grip. “We can argue later.”
He shifts slightly ahead of me, putting himself between me and the widest opening, and I adjust to cover the opposite angle without thinking about it.
“Stay up,” he says.
“I will if you do,” I shoot back.
His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but close enough to register.
“Deal,” he says.