A man burst from a side door, rifle raised, eyes locking on me. My breath caught—I couldn’t lift a weapon, couldn’t stop him—
But Carter was faster. His shot split the air, dropping the man before he could even take aim. The blast left my ears ringing, but Carter didn’t look back. He didn’t need to. He trusted I’d keep moving.
And I did. My legs shook, but they carried me down that hall, right into the heart of Redwood.
A groan pulled my eyes to the side. One of the team—Gideon—was crouched against the wall, his hand pressed to his thigh where blood poured fast.
I dropped to my knees without thinking, the medical bag already open. My hands shook, but I forced them steady as I pressed gauze against the wound, my voice low and urgent. “Hold still. You’re not bleeding out on me.”
Gideon gave me a strained look, half-surprised, half-grateful, but didn’t argue.
Bullets screamed overhead, Carter’s shadow moving to cover us, his body angled wide as he fired down the hall.
I pressed harder on the wound, sweat stinging my eyes, heart hammering so loud it drowned out the rest.
Fear still lived in me. But so did fire.
And Redwood was about to learn I wasn’t just someone to protect.
I was someone to fight beside.
135
Harper
Blood soaked through the gauze faster than I could press it down. My hands were slick, trembling, but I didn’t let go. Gideon’s face was pale, sweat glistening on his forehead as he tried to grit through the pain.
“You’re not passing out on me,” I said, my voice harsher than I meant, but I needed him to hear it. Neededmeto hear it.
I tore open another bandage with my teeth, layering it over the first. My fingers dug in, firm, steady. Fear wanted to take over, but I pushed it down, focusing on the rhythm—press, hold, breathe.
Gunfire roared just feet away. Carter’s voice cut through the smoke, sharp commands echoing down the hall. “Move up! Hold left!” His presence was a wall between us and the storm, but the storm was closing in fast.
Gideon’s grip closed around my wrist, weak but insistent. “You shouldn’t… be here.”
I met his gaze, fire sparking hot in my chest. “Neither should you. So stay with me.”
His mouth twitched, something like a smile, before his eyes squeezed shut.
I grabbed the tourniquet from the kit, wrapping it tight above his thigh. My fingers fumbled once, then steadied. Carter had trusted me to carry this role—and I wasn’t about to fail.
The gunfire slowed for half a heartbeat, and Carter’s shadow dropped beside me. His eyes flicked from Gideon’s wound to my hands working fast, then to my face. For a moment, the battlefield faded. There was only his gaze—pride, relief, something deeper I didn’t have time to name.
“You’ve got him,” he rasped, his voice low but sure.
“I’ve got him,” I repeated, breathless but steady.
He squeezed my shoulder once, firm, grounding, before rising again to face the fight.
And in that moment, with blood on my hands and bullets still flying, I realized the truth.
I wasn’t just surviving this.
I was fighting it.
136
Harper
