Page 28

Briar

I don’t have words for the relief flooding me as Orion’s strong arms close around me. One second, I’m huddled on the cold warehouse floor, my entire body trembling from days of hunger, worry, and hopelessness—and the next, he’s here, warm and solid, pulling me free of this makeshift cage. My pulse pounds in my ears, too loud for me to hear anything but the steady drumming of my own heart. I cling to him, shaking, trying to convince myself this is real and not another twisted dream.

He leans close, breath ragged. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, his gaze fierce. Even through my dazed state, I can see the raw determination in his eyes. Everything in me wants to collapse into him, let him carry me away from this nightmare. Chester, my mind whispers, remember Chester. But Orion’s already calling to Gunner—someone else on his team—to grab the parrot’s cage.

It’s a blur of noise around us: bursts of gunfire somewhere in the warehouse, ricochets whining off metal beams, the angry shouts of men. My legs feel like jelly, and I can barely stand on my own. Orion’s supporting most of my weight as we make our way toward a side exit. Each step seems to take forever. My lungs burn with each breath, stale air and the thick smell of gunpowder choking me. But I’m alive. I’m alive because Orion found me.

We’re nearly to the door—just a few more feet. I see Gunner ahead, rifle raised, Chester’s cage dangling from his other hand, the poor bird squawking in panic. My head swims, body screaming for rest. Just a little further. That’s when it happens.

A crack of gunfire splits the air in a sharper, deadlier tone. Something smacks into Orion, and the world lurches beneath me. He lets out a strangled gasp, his hold on me faltering. I stare up at him, confusion and horror mingling in my chest. I see the dark stain blossoming across his shirt, a bullet wound on his side. No, no, no.

“Orion!” I scream, grabbing for him as he collapses. We both hit the ground hard, his weight crushing into me for a heartbeat before he rolls off, leaving me stunned and winded. My entire body shakes, adrenaline surging. Not Orion, I beg silently. Don’t take him from me.

All around, the chaos intensifies. I hear Gunner roaring something into his comm, and I catch glimpses of more Russians spilling out from behind crates, muzzle flashes lighting the air. I scramble to get a hold of Orion, but strong hands yank me up from behind.

“No!” I shriek, thrashing. But Jason—he’s back, or maybe it’s Heath, I can’t even see. My vision blurs with tears and rage. They’re dragging me away from Orion, who’s still on the ground. I catch a last, haunting glimpse of him, eyes half-lidded, blood staining his vest. Fear claws at me, worse than anything I’ve felt since this began. He can’t be dead. He can’t be.

I’m shoved into a waiting car, Jason’s voice barking orders. Everything is a haze of noise and chaos. I’m flung across the back seat, my head slamming into the door, jarring my senses. The vehicle lurches forward, tires squealing on the concrete. Another burst of gunfire rings out, this time so close it rattles the windows. The men curse in Russian or something close to it, returning fire with short bursts of their own. I bury my face in my arms, trying to steady my breathing, trying not to choke on the terror .

All I can think is: Orion is shot. My mind replays the moment—the snap of the bullet, his agonized gasp. Is he alive? Please, let him be alive. A sob tears from my throat, but no one in the car shows me any sympathy. I can feel their hostility radiating like a heat wave.

We speed away, the car rattling as we blow through some barricade or fence. The gunfire behind us grows distant, muffled. I can’t tell who’s winning or losing, only that I’m trapped again. I squeeze my eyes shut, wishing I could rewind time just five minutes to when Orion held me.

Suddenly, more shots ring out from the front. The men in the car shout, the driver jerks the wheel. We fishtail, slamming sideways into something—the impact sends me sprawling against the door. There’s a flurry of curses, the windshield cracks, and I hear bullets pinging off metal. Someone’s attacking the car.

“Get us out of here!” Jason yells, voice nearly drowned by the roar of the engine.

But it’s too late. Through the fractured windshield, I see headlights bearing down on us. Another vehicle cuts us off, screeching to a halt, men pouring out with guns drawn. Their silhouettes are too shadowy for me to make out details, but from the way they move, I sense professional training . Obviously they’re Orion’s men?

The driver tries to accelerate, but a volley of bullets rips through the hood. Steam and smoke billow, and the engine dies in a horrible grinding wail. The car shakes as more rounds pepper the side. The men beside me shove open their doors, lurching out to return fire, leaving me momentarily unguarded. My heart hammers. I consider diving out, but fear roots me in place. The gunshots are relentless, deafening.

Suddenly, the back door flies open, and a stranger grabs me. I recoil, fighting, but he yells, “I’m Asher, I’m with Orion’s team!” His voice is urgent, breathless. I glimpse his face in the flickering headlights—young, sharp eyes, fierce determination. Another savior?

I let him haul me out, tears blinding me. He thrusts me toward a nearby truck, barking, “Get down!” The chaos of gunfire and shouting echoes all around, and I half crawl, half stumble into the truck’s cab. Asher dives in behind me, slamming the door. I’m shaking so badly I can hardly breathe.

He twists the key, the engine roars, and we peel away from the broken mess of the other car. The back window’s shot out, glass glittering across the seat. My ears ring from the relentless barrage. I press myself down, arms over my head, tears streaking my face. Please let Orion be alive, please let Orion be alive. My mantra pulses with every beat of my heart.

Asher yells at me to stay down, and I comply, curling up on the floorboard. The truck swerves wildly, tires squealing against pavement. We must be weaving through side streets or alleys. My stomach lurches with each abrupt turn, but I hang on, trying not to panic. We’re escaping. That’s something.

After what feels like an eternity, the engine’s whine settles, and the gunfire fades behind us. My breathing is ragged, tears still burning my eyes. Asher glances down at me, jaw clenched. “You okay?” he asks, voice tight.

I shake my head, my throat too constricted to speak. How can I be okay? Orion’s shot. He might be… he might… I can’t even finish the thought. I choke out a sob. “Is Orion… is he…”

Asher grimaces, eyes flicking to the road. “I don’t know,” he admits, frustration evident. “Comms went down. Dean’s team is still at the warehouse.” He swallows, gaze full of sympathy. “I’m sorry. But we had to get you out of there.”

His words land like punches to my gut. My brain reels. Why is this happening? Tears stream down my cheeks, and I press my forehead against the edge of the seat. Orion, please, be alive. Please.

Asher drives on in grim silence, weaving through back roads at high speed. My skin prickles with the cold air rushing through the bullet-riddled window. Eventually, he pulls off onto a secluded street, trees looming overhead. The headlights illuminate an old cabin-like structure, the windows dark.

“We’re here,” he mutters, killing the engine. “Safe house. Let’s go.”

He helps me out of the truck, quickly guiding me toward the door. My knees threaten to buckle, exhaustion and grief crashing over me. Days of captivity, then the adrenaline rush of near-freedom, only to have Orion ripped away in a flash of gunfire. My mind feels shredded.

Inside, the place is small but secure-looking, with heavy locks on every door and window. Asher flips on a single lamp, throwing a warm glow across a modest living area. There’s no one else here. He leads me to a sofa, gently easing me down. For a moment, he hovers, like he’s not sure whether to console me or check the perimeter.

“Stay here,” he says at last, voice firm but kind. “I need to confirm the property’s clear, then get back on comms with Dean. I promise I’ll tell you anything I find out about Orion the second I know.”

I nod numbly, wrapping my arms around myself. My body still shakes, heart racing with leftover terror. Every instinct screams that I should be out there searching for Orion, but I’m too weak to fight, too emotionally spent. Asher slips away, his footsteps heavy on the floorboards as he checks doors and windows.

Alone in the flickering lamplight, I bury my face in my hands, tears hot and unrelenting. Is he alive? The question loops in my mind. He has to be. Because if Orion’s gone, if I came this close to freedom only to lose him, I don’t know how I’ll survive that. My chest aches with a grief that might swallow me whole.

The last few days—being held captive, watching Chester waste away, the bullet slamming into Orion’s side—have shredded any illusions of safety I once had. Now, this safe house might be my refuge, but it feels like a fragile bubble waiting to burst. I just want to know he’s okay.

I drag in a ragged breath, pressing my back against the sofa cushions, and stare at the door where Asher disappeared. He’ll make contact with the team , I remind myself. He’ll let me know if Orion’s condition is stable, if the others made it out alive. Until then, all I can do is tremble in this terrible limbo—half rescued, half destroyed by the fear that Orion was taken from me in that single explosive moment.

So I wait, heart pounding, mind racing, trying to hold onto hope. Because if there’s one thing left to cling to in this whirlwind of madness, it’s the desperate belief that Orion Locke isn’t gone. That somehow, he’ll pull through, and I’ll see him again. He can’t die now, I think, clenching my fists against the sofa cushions. Not after all we’ve been through.

But until I hear those words— He’s alive —I can’t breathe easy. All I can do is pray, shaking, exhausted, and fighting the urge to scream at the unfairness of it all.