Chapter 6
Russ
Something shifts.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
Just wrong.
The tiny hairs along the back of my neck rise first.
Then the silence changes.
I lift my head slowly, every muscle tightening.
Outside—
Gravel crunches.
Too controlled to be one of ours.
I’m already standing before the sound comes again.
“Up.”
The word cuts through the room low and sharp.
Every head snaps toward me.
“Everybody up. Now.”
Olivia moves instantly.
No questions.
No hesitation.
Good.
Lucas is already at the cracked window, rifle raised. Clay kills the lantern light while Miles reaches for the supplies near the back wall.
“Movement north side,” Lucas mutters. “East too.”
My jaw tightens.
Too fast.
They should not have found us this fast.
Olivia crouches beside the children, touching shoulders gently as she wakes them. “Quiet voices,” she whispers. “Shoes on. Stay close to your mothers.”
No panic in her tone.
The kids listen.
Even terrified, they listen to her.
“Back exit,” I say. “Thirty seconds.”
Olivia looks up sharply. “Thirty—?”
“That’s all we have.”
The words hang there for half a second.
Then she nods once. “Okay.”
Still no argument.
That shouldn’t hit me the way it does.
We move fast through the rear opening of the safehouse and straight into rough terrain.
Loose rock slides beneath our boots immediately.
Sharp drops.
Narrow footing.
Perfect killing ground.
Wind tears through the hills hard enough to sting my eyes.
“Keep moving,” Lucas says quietly from the front.
Behind us—
A door slams open.
Voices explode into the night.
Arabic shouting echoes against the rocks.
Too close.
Damn it.
“They’re inside!” Miles hisses.
The group surges forward faster.
A child stumbles on the uneven ground with a frightened cry.
Olivia catches him before he hits the rocks.
“I’ve got you,” she whispers, pulling him upright.
It costs us seconds.
That’s all it takes.
Gunfire erupts behind us.
The first shots crack through the dark so close I hear rounds snap past my head.
“Move!” I roar.
Chaos detonates around us.
Mothers grab children. Dirt sprays beneath pounding boots. Someone screams as bullets hammer into the ridge behind us.
Olivia grabs the nearest little girl against her side and runs without looking back.
Good.
She’s learning.
Another shot tears through the dark—
Pain explodes through my body.
Hot.
Sharp.
Like somebody shoved a blade straight through me.
I stumble once.
Catch myself immediately.
“Russ!”
Olivia’s voice cuts through the gunfire.
“I’m fine!” I bark back.
Blood already feels warm beneath my jacket.
Doesn’t matter.
“Keep moving!”
Smoke suddenly bursts behind us.
Clay.
Gray clouds swallow the ridge instantly, choking the night in thick cover.
The shouting behind us turns confused.
Exactly what we needed.
“Go!” Lucas shouts.
We scramble over the crest of the ridge, boots slipping against loose stone.
My side burns harder with every step.
Ignore it.
Just keep moving.
The gunfire fades little by little behind us until all that’s left is ragged breathing and boots grinding against dirt.
Nobody stops until Lucas finally throws up a hand.
“Here.”
The group collapses where they stand.
One of the mothers drops to her knees, clutching two crying children against her chest. Hannah bends over with her hands braced on her thighs, sucking in air. Stephen mutters curses under his breath while scanning the darkness.
I slow carefully.
Big mistake.
Olivia sees the blood immediately.
Her eyes narrow. “You’re hit.”
“It’s nothing.”
“It is absolutely not nothing.”
She’s already moving toward me before I can answer.
“Sit down.”
I open my mouth.
Then close it again.
Because judging by the look on her face, this isn’t a discussion.
I lower myself onto a flat rock with a grimace.
I hate this.
Hate sitting still.
Hate needing help even more.
Olivia drops to her knees in front of me and pushes my jacket aside.
Cold air hits the wound.
Then her expression hardens.
“You’re bleeding through everything.”
“I noticed.”
“This isn’t a graze.”
“Well,” I mutter, “that’s inconvenient.”
Her glare could cut steel. “Stop talking.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She presses folded cloth against the wound.
Pain punches straight through me hard enough to drag a rough breath from my chest.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
Doesn’t ease up even slightly.
Of course she doesn’t.
I watch her while she works.
Loose strands of hair whip across her face in the wind. Dirt streaks one cheek. Her fingers move quickly and efficiently against my side.
Then they tremble.
Just once.
Small enough most people would miss it.
I don’t.
“You should’ve said something,” she mutters.
“And distract you?”
Her jaw tightens.
“I don’t panic.”
A humorless huff leaves me. “Could’ve fooled me earlier.”
Her hands still.
Only for a second.
Then they start moving again.
“That was different.”
“How?”
She keeps her eyes on the bandage. “They needed me.”
The words come out quietly.
Honestly.
Like she didn’t mean to say them aloud.
Yeah.
I already figured that out.
“You almost got yourself killed protecting them,” I say.
She doesn’t answer.
The silence says enough.
I look down at her hands again.
Still shaking.
Before I can think better of it, I reach out and wrap my hand around hers.
Warm skin against cold fingers.
She freezes instantly.
Slowly looks up at me.
Too close.
Way too close.
“You did good,” I say quietly.
Her throat moves as she swallows. “I almost lost that little boy.”
“But you didn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean I—”
“It means he’s breathing.”
The wind howls around us.
Nobody else speaks nearby.
For one strange second, it feels like the entire world narrowed down to her eyes locked on mine.
“You did good,” I repeat.
Something softens in her expression.
Not much.
Just enough to notice.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
Neither of us lets go.
That’s the problem.
My thumb shifts slightly against the back of her hand before I can stop it.
Her breath catches.
Mine nearly does too.
“Olivia.”
Her name comes out rough.
Different this time.
She looks at me like she heard it too.
“You’re shaking,” I murmur.
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
She tries to pull herself together immediately. “I need to check the others.”
“You don’t have to hold everything by yourself.”
That lands hard.
I see it happen.
Right there in her eyes.
That fracture opening wider.
She pulls her hand away too fast and stands abruptly.
“I should check the children,” she says again.
This time her voice sounds thinner.
I let her go.
Don’t stop her.
Doesn’t mean I don’t feel the loss of contact immediately.
Olivia moves back toward the others, kneeling beside one of the mothers like nothing just happened.
But now I notice everything.
The exhaustion she keeps hiding.
The way she touches those kids like their pain physically hurts her.
The way she almost broke earlier—
And didn’t.
And worst of all?
The way she looked at me just now.
Like I was someone safe to lean on.
That’s dangerous.
For both of us.