Chapter 104 Adam
Adam
Gunfire rattled the steel maze of containers, each shot a thunderclap in my skull. Hawk’s curses lit the communications, Blade’s knife flashed as he went hand-to-hand with a guard too close for a clean shot, and Logan’s rifle cracked steady cover from the flank.
But all I saw was Raine.
She stood in the open, pistol steady, fire in her eyes as if the bullets screaming past were nothing but noise. She wasn’t breaking. She wasn’t bending. She was holding the line.
I dragged another victim out of the trailer—barely more than a boy, his skin clammy, his eyes hollow—and shoved him toward Russ. Then I turned back, and my chest went tight.
Because Raine was still out there, wide open.
“Raine!” I roared, grabbing her shoulder, yanking her into cover against the container wall. She slammed into me, her breath ragged, her ribs trembling against my arm.
“I had it,” she snapped, eyes flashing.
“I know,” I said, my forehead dropping to hers, the world narrowing to the heat of her breath and the pounding of her heart. “But I’m not losing you. Not here. Not ever.”
Her eyes softened—just for a breath, just enough to cut through the thunder. She pressed her lips to mine, fast, fierce, like a promise ripped from fire.
Then Hawk’s shout tore us back to war.
“More trucks rolling out! We’ve got thirty seconds before this place turns into a slaughterhouse!”
I cupped her cheek, just once, just enough to burn the memory in. “On me.”
Her chin lifted, fire blazing again. “Always.”
We surged back into the storm together.