Page 86 of The Mercenary's Hidden Heir

Kelli sinks down, pulling Joren into her lap.

I glance at the kids.

Aria’s pale but awake, eyes huge.

Joren’s trembling like a leaf.

I wrap my arms around him, pressing kisses into his messy hair.

"You’re safe," I whisper, lying with everything I've got.

"You’re safe, my baby."

A shadow shifts outside.

Traz stiffens.

Silpha swears under her breath.

"They’re here," Traz mutters.

"We run?" I ask.

He hesitates—just a second.

Then nods.

No other choice.

We bolt.

The city explodes around us.

Voices shout.

Lights sweep the ruins.

Blasters crack the air, throwing sparks and smoke.

Traz grabs Aria tighter and barrels through a pile of old crates.

I chase after him, Joren clutched tight against my side.

We dodge between heaps of rusted metal, dive under dangling signs, slip past drunken brawlers too wrecked to care.

Every step feels heavier.

Every breath harder.

Traz cuts left into a maze of narrow alleys.

I follow blindly.

The walls press close, reeking of piss and garbage.

A gang banger leaps out ahead—gun raised.

Traz doesn't hesitate.

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