6. Lucas
LUCAS
“Move!”
Adam’s command echoed across the warehouse.
The Brave moved as one.
Boone led the first group of civilians through the blown rear entrance.
Russ covered the open ground outside, his rifle cracking in controlled bursts as enemy fighters poured through the surrounding ruins.
“Three down. More coming.”
I stayed at the rear of the civilian column.
Exactly where I wanted to be.
Exactly where Wynn wasn’t.
Or at least where she was supposed to be.
I counted each person as they passed.
Then counted again.
Someone was missing.
“Where’s Janice?”
Wynn stopped instantly.
“She went back for one of the injured men.”
I closed my eyes for half a second.
“Of course she did.”
“I told her I’d help?—”
“No.”
“I’m going.”
Before Wynn could argue, I sprinted back into the warehouse.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
Flames climbed one wall where a fuel drum had ignited during the firefight.
Concrete groaned overhead.
The building wasn’t going to remain standing much longer.
“Janice!”
A weak voice answered.
“Over here!”
I followed the sound to a collapsed office.
A massive steel beam pinned one corner of the room.
Dr. Janice Turner knelt beside an elderly man trapped beneath a slab of broken concrete.
“I can’t leave him.”
I didn’t waste a second.
I grabbed a length of steel pipe from the debris and shoved one end beneath the slab.
“Get ready to pull him out.”
Janice stared at the concrete.
“That’s too heavy.”
“That’s why I’m using leverage.”
She smiled despite everything.
“You sound just like Wynn described.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
Wonderful.
Even halfway around the world, Wynn had apparently been talking about me.
I braced the pipe against a chunk of fallen concrete and threw my weight against it.
The slab shifted.
“Now!”
Janice grabbed the elderly man beneath his arms and pulled.
My muscles strained as I fought to keep the concrete raised.
“Keep going!”
She dragged him clear.
I released the pipe, grabbed the man’s legs, and helped Janice carry him toward the exit.
The instant we cleared the office, the ceiling collapsed behind us with a deafening crash.
Dust swallowed everything.
I coughed, tightened my grip on the old man, and kept moving.
Fresh air hit my lungs when we finally stumbled outside.
The extraction vehicles were waiting.
So was Wynn.
The moment I stepped through the smoke, I found her.
Emerald-green eyes locked on me.
Relief flooded her face so quickly it nearly made me stop walking.
Almost.
Janice and I lowered the elderly man beside the nearest vehicle.
Wynn marched straight toward me.
Before anyone could stop her, she shoved me square in the chest.
“What were you thinking?”
I blinked.
“I was rescuing people.”
“You could’ve been killed!”
“So could Janice.”
“That’s different.”
I looked straight into her eyes.
“No. It isn’t.”
For one long moment, neither of us spoke.
Boone walked past carrying two frightened children.
He looked from me to Wynn, then over at Hawk.
“I think we’ve interrupted something.”
Hawk grinned.
“Oh, definitely.”
Russ climbed into the lead vehicle.
“Can we survive the militia before they kill each other?”
Even Adam laughed.
I looked at every one of them.
“Not. One. Word.”
Boone raised both hands.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The smirks on their faces told me otherwise.
They’d all seen it.
The second I’d looked at Wynn, every ounce of discipline I’d built over the last six years had taken a direct hit.
Hawk’s smile disappeared.
He looked toward the eastern ridgeline.
Headlights.
Dozens of them.
His radio crackled.
“Commander…”
The drone operator’s voice had changed.
Urgent.
“We’ve got a problem.”
Adam raised his binoculars.
His expression hardened.
“No.”
I turned toward him.
“What is it?”
He slowly lowered the binoculars.
“Those aren’t local militia.”
“Then who are they?”
His answer sent a chill through every one of us.
“They’re military, and they’re blocking the only road out.”
Silence settled over the extraction vehicles.
Then Adam looked at the team.
“Looks like we’re taking the long way home.”
I checked my rifle.
Fresh magazine.
Full combat load.
Around me, every member of the Brave did the same.
The mission had changed.
Again.
And somehow, I had a feeling the hardest part wouldn’t be fighting our way out.
It would be pretending Wynn Spencer no longer mattered.