Chapter 22

22

The SUV rocked violently as Abe hurled himself inside, the suspension groaning under his sudden weight. The metallic stench of blood hit her nostrils. Crimson bloomed through his torn sleeve, spreading like spilled wine on fabric.

He’s hit.

The door slammed shut with a resounding thud. “Freya, go.” His voice was a gravelly rasp.

“Your arm?—”

“ Go .” His face was ashen, but the single syllable cracked in the confined space.

Freya slammed the car into gear just as a man burst from behind a rocky outcrop, weapon raised.

She floored it.

The windshield exploded, showering her with a deadly hail of glass. Her foot already mashed to the floor, she locked her arms, white-knuckled the wheel. She swerved, the SUV lurching around the gunman.

In her peripheral vision, Abe’s door flew open. Two sharp cracks split the air as he returned fire. Their pursuer crumpled.

Hell. Hell. Hell.

She yanked the steering wheel hard, fishtailing onto the rough track leading to the highway. Emotion threatened to overwhelm her, making it difficult to keep the vehicle straight. The rear wheels spun, kicking up gravel as they fought for traction on the uneven ground.

Headlights blazed to life in her rear-view mirror. They’re coming after us.

The pedal was on the floor but she pressed harder as if by sheer will she could make the SUV speed up.

The hill summit drew closer.

Almost there.

A low-frequency hum filled the air, making her teeth ache. A heartbeat later, an invisible force pulsed through the air—a shockwave slamming into the SUV’s frame, sending bone-deep vibrations through her body.

“What the hell’s that?” Abe twisted in his seat, his face illuminated by an eerie, blue-white flash from the horizon.

“EMP charge.” Freya recognized the telltale signs. “Asta set it off.”

In her wing mirrors, the headlights of their pursuers blinked out simultaneously, leaving only a pale-gray dawn behind them.

Freya’s pulse raced, but the SUV kept running. Adjustment. Asta must have rigged something to shield it. Freya slowed, gripping the wheel with bloodless knuckles, the gravity of Asta’s sacrifice hitting her like a physical blow. “We should go back. Help Asta.”

“We can’t,” Abe’s voice was bound by restrained emotion. “She did this so we could move forward.”

“She’s alone.” The words caught in her throat like thorns.

“I know.” His response was barely audible over the screaming engine.

They reached the blacktop, the transition from gravel to smooth asphalt jarring under the tires. Freya hooked a left toward the coast, the engine roaring as she pushed it to its limits. The speedometer swung upward, passing the seventy kph mark as they flew by a weathered speed sign.

Dark clouds swallowed the road behind her.

The speedometer crept up. Sixty, seventy, eighty kilometers per hour.

“Freya, you can ease off now.” A large hand covered hers on the wheel, but fury and fear made her ignore it. “ Freya .”

This time, his voice penetrated the fog. Abe.

Reality rushed in. The engine screamed, the SUV threatening to tear itself apart. She lifted her foot from the gas, braking hard. The vehicle skidded to a sudden stop at the roadside, tires screeching in protest.

Freya killed the engine. Her breath was ragged, tears spilling down her cheeks. Fumbling in her pocket for a tissue, she wiped at her eyes, angry at her own weakness. Emotions were a liability, a sign of losing control.

Like my mother.

“Freya—” Abe reached for her, but she recoiled at the sight of blood on his hand, wet and glistening in the harsh dashboard light.

My fault.

The tick of the engine was too loud.

She yanked the car door open, a metallic screech in her ears.

The world tilted as she tumbled out, palms and knees scraping the rough tarmac. She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribcage.

Need to get away. Can’t breathe.

She bolted. Away from the road, her vision tunneling to the undefined horizon.

Behind her, Abe called her name, but the sound was distant, drowned out by the roaring in her ears and the crushing weight of guilt.

Run. Each footfall sent shockwaves through her body, matching the tempest of emotion threatening to drown her. The events of the morning were a horrific blur as she ran, her lungs burning from the effort. Low-level bushes tore at her dungarees. Her toe snagged something immovable. The world went topsy-turvy as she crashed to the ground. The impact drove the air from her lungs in a painful whoosh. Panic clawed at her throat as she scrabbled in the dirt, gritty earth grinding beneath her nails.

A weight slammed into her from behind. Strong arms enveloped her, and a familiar voice cut through the din in her ears. “Freya, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

No. No. She couldn’t let him see her like this—stripped of her carefully constructed armor, raw and broken. Freya lashed out, nails digging into flesh, heels kicking back with desperate strength. But Abe’s grip remained unbreakable, his voice a firm anchor in her ear, telling her everything was going to be okay. He was there for her.

Finally, she had nothing more. She sagged against him, dimly aware of the gentle pressure of his lips against her hair. He cradled her, rocking her back and forth. The tenderness of the gesture pierced through her defenses. No one had held her like this since she could remember. Her father had died too young, and her mother had been lost in the labyrinth of her own fractured mind.

The fight drained from her limbs, leaving her boneless. The hands that held her were bloody. “They hurt you.”

“I’ll live. It’s just a flesh wound.” Abe’s voice rumbled, a soothing vibration against her back. “They won’t get away with it.”

He held her till she stopped shaking, and her breathing returned to normal. The heat of him soaked through her, melting away all the defenses she had constructed to protect herself. For a moment, the world narrowed to just the two of them.

Somehow stronger together than alone. Was that what a relationship was? When the whole was greater than two separate entities? But where did she go from here?

“I don’t know what to do anymore.” Her voice cracked at the admission. She was always the one with a plan.

“You don’t honor those who’ve fallen by lying down and giving up.” He helped her up to sitting, traced one finger down her cheek. “You get back up and keep fighting. You’re stronger than you know.”

She studied him. There was more behind his words.

“You lost someone, didn’t you?”

A shadow crossed his face, his gaze drifting toward the horizon as if revisiting a battlefield that still haunted him. When he spoke, his voice was low, weighed down by memory. “Two of my team. Afghanistan. We got intel on a weapons stash, a location the translator swore was solid.” He paused, his jaw tightening, remembering Mariam’s lies. “It was a trap. They walked into an ambush because of me—because I trusted the wrong woman. She was working with a local warlord, feeding us false information. My teammates didn’t make it out.”

She reached out, took his hand in hers. “God. I’m so sorry, Abe.” She understood the turmoil in his eyes—the sensation of being lost in a world that no longer made sense.

He dipped his head, drawing in a deep breath. When he looked up again, determination glinted in his brown eyes. “We have to keep fighting, Freya. It’s the only way.”

Muscle in her jaw hardened, and something inside her shifted. This wasn’t just about the laptop or the data anymore. This was about survival—hers and the people she cared about. And about justice.

“Raptor will pay.” For hurting Asta. She fumbled in her pocket for a tissue, wiping her face. Tears wouldn’t fix this. Her mind, however—that was a weapon. “Tears change nothing. Did you know problem-solving in high-stress situations increases by 27% when we shift focus from emotions to strategy?” Her voice was calm again, facts anchoring her.

One brow winged upward. “Is that what you’re doing now?”

Freya met his gaze, the vulnerability fading, her armor sliding back into place. It’s the only way forward, isn’t it? “Raptor might have resources but they’ve made a fatal mistake.”

Abe frowned. “What’s that?”

“They’ve given us something to fight for.”