Page 20

Lark

“ R otation confirmed!” Jake shouted over the wind. “That’s a funnel!”

My heart thundered as I leaned out the passenger window, my camera locked onto the swirling sky. The clouds churned in shades of ash and slate, low and hungry. I could feel the charge in the air—the weight of the atmosphere pressing down like a held breath.

Tiff pointed toward the southeast. “She’s dropping! We’ve got touchdown!”

The thin rope of wind twisted toward the earth, stretching, spinning—and then it touched ground. Dirt and debris exploded upward in a chaotic spiral. Just like that, a monster was born.

“EF-2 at least,” Jake yelled. “We need to reposition before it crosses the road.”

“Go!” I yelled, adrenaline replacing every rational thought.

The SUV jolted forward, tires kicking up gravel as they raced ahead of the twister.

My camera clicked rapid-fire, my hands steady, my lungs tight.

This was it. This was what I’ve lived for.

The terrifying, breathtaking moment when nature flexed its muscles and dared you to keep up. It was so damn exciting.

But even as the storm roared closer, my mind flicked to Axel.

He’d hate this.

He’d lose his mind knowing I was out here, chasing death while he was probably ducking bullets in some far-off hellhole. But I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when I felt more alive than I had in weeks.

The tornado widened, tearing across a fallow field, snapping fence posts like toothpicks.

Suddenly, a deafening CRACK split the air.

“Tree down!” Jake swerved hard. “We’re boxed in on the north side!”

“South!” Tiff shouted. “Cut across the drainage ditch!”

Jake spun the wheel, and the SUV lurched into the ditch, bouncing violently. I gripped the dashboard, laughing and cursing all at once.

God, I missed this chaos.

I glanced at the screen on my camera, shot after perfect shot of the twister forming, dropping, dancing with the horizon. Gold.

But my throat tightened when I saw a video clip starting to auto-play.

Axel.

I’d filmed him the morning he left. Sitting on the porch. Drinking coffee and smirking when I told him to be careful.

“You’re the reckless one, Bennett,” he’d said.

And now, here I was.

Heart racing. Storm howling.

Chasing wind—and maybe, in my own way, chasing him.