Page 81 of Own

I kept moving with the others, pushing through the pain in my side, though it screamed for me to stop. I tried to suck in air, tried to ignore the stitch that felt like a blade in my ribs. Every step was a fight against the burn, but there was no stopping. Not yet. Not until we were out.

“Split here,” Voodoo said. “Lunchbox get back to Alphabet, you guys keep them scrambled while we grab the other vehicle.”

I wasn’t sure where here was but Lunchbox jogged up and brushed his fingers down my cheek before he disappeared into the gray light. Here turned out to be a little ravine, or culvert. A divot in the land.

There was water at the bottom and we splashed through it. Their longer strides meant I had to take two for each of theirs. Of course, Voodoo was carrying someone. The last thing I planned to do was bitch.

Finally, we made it around the far side of the building, through the trees, and into the clearing where the SUV waited like salvation on wheels. I skidded to a halt as Bones’ hand caught my shoulder. At his signal, I dropped beside Voodoo, chest heaving, while Bones swept the vehicle for threats.

Stopping might’ve been a mistake. My lungs were on fire, each breath razored and raw, and the stitch in my side had turned into a white-hot blade twisting deeper with every second. When Bones waved us forward, I shoved to my feet, but my legs betrayed me—I pitched sideways. Voodoo caught my arm, steady and silent, anchoring me before I could hit the ground.

He didn’t let go. He kept his grip tight as we pounded down the steep hill toward the SUV. At the bottom, he tossed his prisoner into the back like deadweight, checked the bindings with the same brutal efficiency he used in a firefight, then slammed the door shut.

“I’ll ride in the backseat,” he said, nudging me toward the passenger side. “In you go, Firecracker.”

“Should I take off the—” Talking hurt. My throat felt like ground glass. I was never calling myselfin shapeagain. The guys might be winded, but at least they could still speak in full sentences.

“Not yet,” Bones said, voice clipped. “We’re moving first.”

I all but collapsed into the seat and fumbled with the belt, finally snapping it into place. The SUV roared to life beneath us, and just like that, we were peeling out through the early dawn haze, shadows sliding past the windows as Bones took us toward the road.

“On the road,” Alphabet’s voice crackled through comms. “Left them a little present in their system. First time they access the cams, it’s gonna crash everything. Hard.”

“How sad for them,” Lunchbox replied, his grin practically audible. “Anyway. ETA, Bravo?”

“Two hours. Long way around. Dumping ours, grabbing the new ride, then we’ll come get you.”

I let my head fall back against the seat. Every cell in my body was wrung out, nerves frayed to threads, exhaustion bleeding from every pore.

“Copy that,” Lunchbox said. “Call in two hours. Syncing now.”

The comms went silent. Bones reached up and ripped his mask off, then pulled out his earpiece. He glanced over at me, and I blinked at him, dazed.

“Mask, Dollface?” he said.

Mask?

Oh—right. I still had it on. I peeled it off, and instantly it felt like I could breathe again. The vehicle reeked of smoke, sulfur, and sweat—but somehow, that last one was almost comforting. Maybe because it meant we were still here. Still breathing.

“Water,” Voodoo said, shoving two bottles through the gap in the seats. My hand trembled as I took one. Bones glanced sideways at the shake, but I didn’t hide it. What was the point?

I drank deep. The water was lukewarm and tasted faintly plastic, but it was everything. As I stared out the window at the quiet roadside—little houses, gardens, fences—I couldn’t help the disconnect. People out there were waking up to coffee and morning news. They had no idea what we’d just crawled out of.

Or what still lay ahead.

“You did good,” Bones said, finishing his water and flinging the empty into the back like it was just another spent round. He set his hand on my thigh—solid, warm, steady. It shouldn’t have been comforting. But it was.

It didn’t stop the tremble still running through me. But it helped slow my pulse from full-on panic to something survivable.

“Well, gee, Cap,” Voodoo drawled from the back. “Don’t hurt yourself with all that praise. How’d I do?”

Bones didn’t miss a beat. “You’ve got room for improvement.”

That dry, brutally neutral tone was the last straw.

A laugh escaped me, sharp and startled. Then another. Then I was giggling, full-on, uncontrollably. Tears streamed from the corners of my eyes. I wasn’t even sure what was funny. Nothing. Everything.

Bones didn’t say anything. Just kept his hand steady on my leg.

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