The tourniquet tightened, cutting off the worst of the bleeding. Gideon hissed, his teeth clenched, but his pulse felt steadier under my fingers. Relief surged through me, sharp and shaky, but there was no time to breathe it in.
I reached for the hemostatic powder, tearing the packet open with blood-slick hands. The smell of iron filled my nose as I poured it into the wound, the bleeding slowing almost instantly. My heart slammed harder, but steadiness settled into my fingers.
“You’re doing good,” I told him, keeping my voice calm even as gunfire thundered overhead. “Just hold on for me.”
He gave the smallest nod, his eyes glassy but focused on me, not the chaos around us.
Carter’s shadow loomed nearby, firing precise bursts down the hall, every movement lethal and sure. He didn’t look back, but I knew he was aware of every breath I took. That silent thread between us held me steady as much as my own two hands.
I wrapped the last bandage tight, securing it with a knot,then pressed my hand to Gideon’s shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, understand?”
His lips twitched. “Bossy,” he rasped, but the faint edge of humor in his voice told me he was still with me.
I exhaled hard, pushing the fear down deep. My hands were shaking, my knees bruised from the concrete, but I’d done it. I’d kept him alive.
Another volley of bullets ripped through the air, sparking off the metal doorframe inches from Carter. He didn’t flinch, just shifted, covering us with the same ferocity he always carried into battle.
And me—covered in blood, heart pounding—I felt something new swell inside my chest.
I wasn’t just surviving Redwood.
I was defying them.
137
Harper
My knees ached from the concrete, my hands sticky with Gideon’s blood, but I forced myself upright. The hallway stretched ahead, choked with smoke and echoing with gunfire, yet the fear that had once paralyzed me no longer held me still.
Carter moved like a storm at the front, every burst from his rifle precise, controlled. River flowed at his side, clearing angles, while Cyclone covered the flank with brutal efficiency. These men fought like they had nothing left to lose. And I knew they were married with children. But they were here because of me.
And me—I wasn’t a soldier, but I had earned my place.
I slung the medical bag back over my shoulder, adjusting its weight. Gideon gave me a tight nod, his face pale but his grip steady on his pistol. “Go,” he said hoarsely. “I’ll hold until you’re back.”
I squeezed his shoulder once, then pushed forward, falling in just behind Carter. His hand brushed mine briefly—fast, sure—before he surged ahead again. The touch was enough to steady me.
Smoke burned my lungs, but I kept moving, every step a choice. I wasn’t here to be hidden. I wasn’t here to be caged. I was here to fight in the way I could, to stand beside the man who had given everything for me.
Redwood wanted me afraid. They wanted me broken.
Instead, they had given me fire.
Another door loomed at the end of the hall, heavy and locked. The kind of door that promised answers—or hell. River signaled the team down, Cyclone already pulling a charge from his vest.
I crouched low, clutching the strap of my bag, heart hammering, but my hands didn’t shake anymore. Not the way they had before.
Because I wasn’t stepping into that room as prey.
I was stepping in as Harper—alive, unbroken, and ready to finish this.
138
Harper
The air was thick, every breath laced with the metallic tang of dust and gun oil. My palms itched against the stock of my rifle, though I wasn’t sure if it was nerves or adrenaline buzzing in my veins. The corridor stretched out in front of us, dimly lit and humming faintly with electricity, as if the whole place was alive and waiting.
Carter moved ahead, his shoulders tight beneath his gear, every line of his body screaming focus. He was in full mission mode now—no hesitation, no softness—but I knew the man beneath the armor. I knew the storm inside him that mirrored mine. Redwood was close. Too close.
