Chapter 23

23

Abe pushed himself to his feet, wincing as he cradled his injured arm against his body. Pain radiated from the wound, sending sharp stabs through his nerves with each subtle movement. Just a scuff. Although the throbbing ache suggested otherwise. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus on the situation.

With his good hand, he fished the compass from his pocket. The cool metal felt reassuring against his palm as he squinted at the dial, his mind racing through calculations. Several hours to the pickup point. We can make it. We have to.

She stood a few paces away, her back to him. He traced the graceful curve of her ear, partially obscured by loose tendrils of hair that caught the harsh morning sunlight. The golden strands shimmered.

A fierce surge of protectiveness washed over him, almost overwhelming in its intensity. Keep it together. Her life depends on you staying focused.

“Freya—”

“We need to fix you up.” She turned her attention on his arm. Concern etched lines around her mouth.

He attempted a nonchalant shrug, immediately regretting the movement as pain flared anew. “It’s just a flesh wound,”

“There’s a first aid kit in my backpack. Wait there.” She scrambled to her feet, tucking a crumpled tissue into her pocket before jogging back toward the abandoned SUV. When she returned, there was a fresh determination in the depths of her eyes. Despite everything they’d been through, she was holding it together. He couldn’t help but admire her resilience.

“Sit here.” Her hand pressed firmly on his uninjured shoulder. “Let me take a proper look.”

His senses went into overdrive. The subtle scent of her shampoo mingled with the earthy smell of dust and sweat. He was acutely aware of her proximity, the soft curves of her body brushing against him as she worked. Her breasts bumped against his arm, sending a vibration through him that had nothing to do with pain.

Closing his eyes, he fought to redirect his thoughts. They had a long journey ahead, and he couldn’t afford to let anything cloud his judgment. Their survival depended on it.

She used small scissors to cut the fabric wider. “Just making the hole bigger so I can clean the wound.” She dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton ball and applied it to his injury.

Abe sucked air through his teeth as the antiseptic hit raw flesh, lighting every nerve on fire.

“Sorry.” She paused, concern in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yes.” He cricked his neck, sweat popping on his forehead. “Continue.”

“Tell me about your teammates.” She rocked back on her heels. “The ones you lost.”

He met her open gaze. “There’s not a lot?—”

“Abe.” Her tone was gentle, but insistent.

“You calling the shots now?”

One feminine shoulder shrugged and her mouth tilted in a half-smile. “I can be as bossy as the best of them.”

But his mind wasn’t on her words. It had shifted to his fallen brothers—Jackson and Roe. Irreplaceable, and now gone. The unfairness of it gnawed at him, but he shoved it down like he always did.

“Jackson was our demolitions expert.” His mouth tasted bitter. “Big guy, built like a tank, but with the hands of a surgeon. Could disarm the nastiest bombs without breaking a sweat. And that laugh...” Abe let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “It could turn around a bad day, no matter how deep in shit we were. He had a wife, two little girls. All he talked about was taking them fishing when we got back.”

Fuck.

Freya worked methodically, cleaning his wound. He hardly felt the sting anymore.

“Roe was our comms guy. Quiet, but sharp. The kind of guy who could rebuild a radio in the dark under fire. Spoke five languages like it was nothing. He was engaged. His fiancée was a nurse. They were supposed to get married a month after we rotated out.” His voice hardened. “Didn’t make it that far.”

His breath faltered, but he controlled it. Combat had taught him to compartmentalize.

“It was—” Liquid fire engulfed his arm. “ Fuck, Freya, what ?—”

She held a bloody bullet aloft in the grip of silver tweezers, her face serious and pale. “Less of a graze, more of an actual bullet.”

He swallowed, cold sweat pricking his hot skin. “Jeez. Freya.” The world swam, tilting dangerously.

She caught him before he toppled over. “Lie down for a second.”

He hit the ground with a thud, grateful for the feel of solid dirt beneath him. Ground never felt so damn good. He stared up at the sky, watching clouds drift by. Oblivious. Lucky bastards.

Freya worked fast, pressing a dressing against his arm.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” he muttered, eyes still locked on the clouds.

“What, so you could scream like a girl about it?” She was already taping the bandage in place. A tiny safety pin sealed the deal. “I’m no medic, but it’ll hold. Think you can sit up now?”

“Uh-huh.”

She clasped his good hand and helped lever him back upright. The world spun for a second, but he shook it off. She handed him two small pills and a bottle of water. “Take these.”

He swallowed them dry—because who needed water at this point—and flexed his strapped-up arm. The range of movement wasn’t bad. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Maybe you can return the favor.” She didn’t release his hand. That simple touch set off every protective instinct he had, every urge to shield her, even from himself. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Why did you kiss me? Back at Asta’s house.”

Anything but that.

His pulse spiked. His answer could jeopardize everything—her trust, her focus, her safety. He drew in a breath, steeling himself, his mind racing to lock down the words before they slipped out.

“I needed you to focus.” His voice was controlled, flat. “To anchor you in the moment. To keep you alive.”

“That’s why?” Those beautiful eyes narrowed, dissecting him, looking for a chink in his armor. “To help me focus?”

She searched his face. But years of Navy SEAL training had made him a master at masking what lay beneath. He kept his expression unreadable. Right now, she needed a protector—a guardian, not a man unraveling under the weight of his own feelings.

“Nothing else?” she pressed, a hint of vulnerability in her voice. It hit him hard like a punch straight to the chest, and for a second he wavered.

The war inside him reached a fever pitch. Every fiber of his being ached to pull her close, to give in to the emotions he’d buried for too long. But the mission came first. Always. If he gave in now, if he let those walls crack, everything could fall apart.

“If I said anything else, it wouldn’t change our current reality. Your safety is paramount. Everything else is secondary.”

A flicker of emotion crossed her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came. She straightened her shoulders, her posture hardening. The woman he’d first met in the lab was back, her guard reasserted.

“You’re right.” Her tone was distant. “We need to focus on survival.”

Abe nodded, ignoring the twist in his gut. He read her shift, the way she pushed down her vulnerability. It mirrored his own internal struggle. He swallowed it all down and slipped back into mission mode. “Right now, my only job is to keep you alive.”

“Keep me alive.” She echoed his words.

There was something about the way she said it that made him want to do more than just protect her—but he shut that thought down fast.

“So what do we do now?” She gave a soft sigh that tugged at him, but he forced himself to stay centered on the immediate problem.

“We need an escape route and we need to figure out how they found us.”

“Asta wouldn’t have betrayed us.” A furrow on her brow deepened. “She helped us escape.”

He weighed her words for a beat, considering the possibilities. If Asta was clean, that left them with an ugly truth. One that twisted the knife deeper. “Well, if that’s the case, there’s only one option.”

Her gaze locked onto his. “What would that be?”

He didn’t want to believe it, but his training—and survival instincts—told him not to ignore the facts. “One of us is working with Raptor.”