12. Clay
Clay
Gunfire erupts the second we reach the warehouse district.
Tracer rounds tear across the street ahead while smoke pours between shattered buildings near the river.
The entire eastern side of the city looks like it’s collapsing into chaos.
Exactly the kind of nightmare battlefield that gets people killed fast.
Lucas jerks the wheel hard as bullets slam into the burned-out car beside us.
“Contact left!”
Miles fires first from the rear vehicle.
Suppressed rounds punch through a second-story window where muzzle flashes burst through broken glass.
I barely hear any of it.
Because my eyes lock onto the warehouse at the end of the street.
Large.
Concrete.
Half the loading doors blown open.
And people are running out.
Civilians.
Women.
Children.
Terrified.
My pulse slams hard.
“She’s in there.”
Russ grabs my shoulder before I can move.
“Clay.”
I look at him sharply.
“We do this smart.”
Another explosion rocks the street hard enough to shake debris loose from nearby buildings.
The warehouse is becoming a kill zone.
And somewhere inside—
Hannah’s trapped in the middle of it.
“I’m done waiting,” I snap.
Russ’s grip tightens slightly.
“And if you charge in blind and die before reaching her?”
The words hit hard because they’re true.
I hate that they’re true.
Gunfire erupts again from the warehouse entrance.
Then—
A child bursts through the smoke-covered loading doors crying hysterically.
And right behind him—
Her.
Everything inside me stops.
Hannah shoves the little boy behind an overturned concrete barrier just as bullets rip through the metal doors behind her.
Dust and sparks explode around her.
My heart nearly stops.
Jesus Christ.
She’s covered in blood.
Not all hers.
Please not hers.
Her hair’s pulled back roughly, dirt streaked across her face while she crouches protectively over the terrified child like she doesn’t even realize bullets are still flying around her.
Exactly the same damn woman who would run into danger for everyone else before herself.
My chest tightens so violently it almost hurts.
“Hannah,” I breathe.
She looks up sharply at the sound of fresh gunfire nearby.
And even from this distance—
Our eyes meet.
Everything else disappears.
The street.
The fighting.
The explosions.
Just her.
Alive.
For one split second, the fear in her expression cracks completely.
Relief flashes there so fast and raw it hits me like a punch to the chest.
Then another burst of gunfire slams into the concrete beside her.
She ducks instantly, shielding the child again.
That’s it.
I’m moving before anyone can stop me.
“Clay!”
Russ shouts after me, but I’m already sprinting across the street through smoke and flying debris.
Bullets crack overhead.
One round punches through a nearby wall close enough to spray concrete across my shoulder.
Don’t care.
All I see is Hannah.
She grabs the child tightly while chaos erupts around us.
Then suddenly—
One of the militia fighters appears from the smoke near the warehouse entrance with his rifle raised directly toward her.
Time slows instantly.
I see the weapon coming up.
See Hannah twisting toward the movement too late.
See the child still clinging to her.
No.
Absolutely not.
I fire twice while still moving.
The hostile drops instantly before he can pull the trigger.
Hannah’s eyes snap toward me in shock.
Then anger.
Actual anger.
Because apparently nearly getting shot isn’t enough to stop her from being furious with me.
The realization almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
I reach them seconds later and grab both Hannah and the child, dragging them hard behind heavier cover just as another explosion rocks the street.
The little boy sobs against Hannah’s side.
She wraps both arms around him immediately.
Then finally—
Finally—
She looks at me fully.
Up close now, I can see bruises along her arms.
Exhaustion carved into her face.
Blood across her sleeves.
But her eyes—
Her eyes are still sharp.
Still strong.
Still Hannah.
Relief crashes through me so hard my hands almost shake.
“You came,” she says breathlessly.
Like part of her still can’t believe it.
I stare at her for one brutal second too long.
Because eight months suddenly feels like a lifetime.
“Yeah,” I say roughly. “You really think I wouldn’t?”
Another explosion interrupts us.
Reality slams back hard.
Hannah immediately pushes the child toward me.
“Take him.”
I blink once.
“What?”
“There are more civilians inside.”
Of course there are.
Of course that’s her first thought.
“Hannah—”
“I’m not leaving them.”
Jesus Christ.
Bullets rip through the loading doors again while screaming echoes from deeper inside the warehouse.
And somehow, even in the middle of a war zone—
I realize I’m completely in love with her.
Worst possible timing.