Page 57 of Faron (The Golden Team #8)

Faron

T he Humvee jolted hard as we hit a jagged ridge. The engine coughed, tires scrambling over broken rock. We weren’t driving anymore—we were surviving the terrain.

Kash kept his eyes locked on the faint shimmer of the river ahead. “We’re close.”

“You’ve said that three times,” Cyclone muttered from the back, binoculars pressed to his face. “Still no tail, but I don’t like this. It’s too damn quiet.”

He was right. My gut had been twisted since we hit the last rise.

Then I saw it.

Movement—three figures near a bend in the road. Civilian clothes, but the way they moved screamed trained. No weapons. No radios. No uniforms.

“Slow down,” I said, raising my rifle. “Let me take a look.”

Kash eased the Humvee forward, creeping just over a rise.

I scoped in.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Cyclone asked, already unbuckling.

“They’re wearing U.S. tactical gear. The old kind. Somebody sold them our loadouts.”

“Mercs?” Kash said.

“Or freelancers. The kind that sell prisoners to the highest bidder.”

As if on cue, the lead man raised his rifle and signaled to someone behind him.

Kash floored it.

Bullets ripped through the windshield. Glass exploded. I ducked as a round clipped the dashboard. Kash swerved hard left, tires bucking over rock and dirt as we barreled into a ravine.

“They were waiting for us!” he shouted.

The Humvee slammed into the bottom of the gully, metal screaming. We bailed out fast, scrambling for cover as another burst of gunfire echoed overhead.

I hit the ground and clawed my way up the embankment, fingers digging into loose rock. Cyclone was right behind me. Grayson limped, bleeding again, but refused to slow. Kash stayed low, laying cover fire.

Then—

A voice.

Clear. Sharp. Unmistakable.

“FARON!”

I froze.

Time stopped.

I turned—and saw her.

Helmet low. Rifle raised. Fire in her eyes.

Blue.

Charging over the ridge like she was born for war. River and Gage flanked her. Gideon was already ahead, laying down tight, controlled fire.

“GO!” she shouted.

We moved.

We sprinted that last stretch like it was the only thing keeping us alive. I dropped beside her in the dirt, heart hammering like I’d been holding my breath for a week.

“Jesus Christ,” I gasped. “You’re here.”

“You think I was gonna let you die in a fucking ditch?” she shouted, never taking her eyes off the threat. “Tag’s watching Bear. I’ve got nothing holding me back.”

In the middle of chaos—I laughed.

Cyclone dropped beside us. “Reunions later. We’ve got company.”

Blue's eyes narrowed. “Then let’s end it.”

And just like that—we were fighting side by side again.