Page 45 of The Mercenary's Hidden Heir
Slow.
Trembling.
"I’m going to her," I say, voice rougher than I’ve ever heard it.
Silpha nods.
"I’ll take you."
I start to move, but she lifts a hand.
"And Traz?" she says, voice razor sharp.
I stop.
"You’re bleeding bad," she says. "If you don’t pull yourself together, you won’t make it two blocks."
I grunt.
"Doesn’t matter," I growl.
Because dead or breathing, I’m not leaving this planet without her.
Without them.
Not again.
Silpha watches me, sharp and wary, like she half-expects me to turn around and put a bullet between her eyes anyway.
I don’t.
I can’t.
I’m too busy trying to shove all the broken pieces of myself back into some kind of shape that can move forward.
She steps closer, voice low but urgent. “You don’t understand, Traz. They don’t have much time.”
I stare at her, fists clenched so tight my nails cut into my palms.
"Explain," I grind out.
"Petru’s men are spreading," she says fast. "New blood. Paranoid. Aggressive. They’re sniffing around the old districts. Asking too many questions. It’s only a matter of time before they find her. Before they find the twins."
The word twins hits me again, raw and brutal.
Kids.
My kids.
Out there, hidden under the filth and rust of Glimner, thinking nobody’s coming for them.
Thinking they’ve been left behind.
Just like Kelli probably thinks.
My stomach twists, acid and guilt burning a hole straight through me.
"I got them this far," Silpha says, voice rough. "But I can't hold it together much longer. I don't have the pull I used to."
