Page 63 of Carter
I lifted my head, staring at the blank page. Slowly, I put the pen down and wrote one word in the center:
Together.
It wasn’t much. But it was enough to remind me who we were, what we’d promised each other.
And as the fire burned low, I clung to that word like it was a lifeline.
Because if Redwood wanted to break us, they’d learn what it meant to fight two hearts bound to the same vow.
96
Carter
By the time we reached the ridge, every muscle in my body burned. The forest opened up to jagged rock and a sweep of sky, the valley sprawled below like a trap waiting to be sprung.
River set Sable down hard against a boulder, his zip ties cutting deeper into raw skin. The bastard hissed in pain but still smirked like he’d already won. I didn’t bother hiding my disgust.
Gideon collapsed onto his pack, flipping his laptop open, the glow of the screen painting his face. “Signal’s weak. I’ll need a few minutes to piggyback off a secure channel.”
“Minutes we don’t have,” Cyclone muttered, sweeping the treeline with his scope. “They’ll be tracking us. Might already be circling.”
I stayed standing, rifle up, scanning the shadows. My body screamed for rest, but my mind wouldn’t let me stop. Not until I knew she was safe. Harper’s face haunted me with every breath—her whisperedalways,the brush of her hand against mine before I left. That was the fuel keeping me sharp, keeping me lethal.
Sable tilted his head, voice smooth despite the blood drying on his suit. “You can run up every hill in this country, soldier. Redwood will still find you. And when they do, you’ll wish you’d killed me.”
I turned on him, pressing the rifle muzzle into his chest, close enough he felt the heat of my breath. “When they come, you’ll be the first one I throw in the line of fire. Redwood wants you? They’ll have to kill you to get to me. And if they kill me—” my voice dropped to a growl—“they’ll never get to her.”
For the first time, his smirk flickered.
“Signal’s up!” Gideon snapped. His fingers flew, eyes narrowing as the channel locked. “Sending coordinates now. Extraction window in forty-five minutes.”
Too long. Forty-five minutes was a lifetime in Redwood’s world.
I crouched low, checking my ammo, my eyes never leaving the dark edge of trees below. “Then we hold the ridge. No one gets through.”
River’s voice was steady, resolute. “We make our stand here.”
And as I chambered the next round, the vow carved deeper into my chest:
I was getting back to Harper. No matter how many bodies I had to drop to make it happen.
97
Carter
The ridge was quiet, too quiet. The kind of quiet that only came before the storm.
I crouched low behind a jagged outcrop, rifle pressed to my shoulder, eyes locked on the treeline below. The valley stretched wide, a funnel that worked against us, but the ridge gave us height. Advantage. If we were going to hold, this was the place.
Cyclone knelt ten yards to my left, rifle steady, his frame rigid as stone. River was on the far side, calm as ever, scanning the approach with lethal patience. Gideon worked behind us, muttering under his breath, fingers flying across the laptop, triangulating any signal Redwood might use.
And Sable—he sat bound and bleeding, slouched against the boulder, his smirk still clinging like a mask. But his eyes betrayed him now, sharp and restless, flicking to the trees every few seconds. He knew Redwood was close. He just didn’t know how close.
A bird startled from the branches below. My finger tightened on the trigger.
Then I heard it—the low rumble of engines.
I ground my teeth, leaning into the scope. Black SUVs crawled along the valley road like predators on the hunt. Doors cracked open, silhouettes spilling out. Too many.
