Page 43 of Secret Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #5)

The world swam in and out of focus like a bad television signal, but at least Kenji was horizontal this time. No debris crushing his leg, no building trying to collapse on him—just clean sheets and the antiseptic smell of a medical facility that had probably been a conference room twelve hours ago.

"Easy with that drip," he mumbled to Zara, who was adjusting his IV with the focused intensity of someone defusing a bomb. "Make sure it's the good stuff."

Zara didn't look up from her work. "You mean the cocktail of antibiotics keeping you from sepsis? Or the pain meds that have you thinking you're funny?"

"I'm always funny." The words came out slurred. Whatever they'd given him was definitely working—the crushing agony in his ribs had dulled to merely excruciating. "Ask anyone."

"I'll pass. Try not to move. Or talk. Or breathe too enthusiastically."

Before he could craft a suitably witty response, the makeshift door burst open. Cassidy stood there, soaking wet and still wearing remnants of fake blood mixed with real dirt, her eyes scanning the room until they locked onto his.

The relief that flooded her face worked better than any painkiller.

"Hi," he managed, attempting what he hoped was a rakish grin despite the oxygen tubes and general state of medical disaster. "Told you I'd see you soon."

She crossed the room in three strides, her poker face completely abandoned. "Don't do that again."

"Which part? The building collapse or the heroic sacrifice?" He squeezed her hand as she reached for his, grounding himself in the warmth of her touch.

"All of it." Her voice cracked slightly. "Any of it."

"Well, well." Zara's voice cut through the moment with characteristic cheer. "Nice to meet you in real life. I'm Zara, that grumpy mountain of tactical preparation is Ronan, and we're your emergency trauma team for today's near-death experience."

Ronan nodded from his position near the door, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

"Welcome to our five-star hurricane hospital.

Complete with world-class trauma surgeon who happened to be vacationing here.

Because apparently, Kenji's got a horseshoe surgically implanted somewhere. "

"Just lucky," Kenji protested weakly.

"I’m not sure you actually know what that word means," Ronan countered.

Sophia and Spencer crowded in behind her, dripping more than Cassidy, if that was possible.

Spencer stared, open-mouthed. "Dude, you look terrible."

"Thanks. Very helpful." Kenji tried to sit up more, immediately regretting it as the room spun. "I've had worse."

"When?" Cassidy demanded.

"Well... okay, not worse. But definitely as bad." He caught her eye roll and counted it as a victory. "Venezuela was pretty rough. And there was an op in Myanmar?—"

Ronan suddenly held up one hand, his head tilting in that distinctive way that meant incoming communications. The room fell silent, everyone watching as his expression shifted from alert to focused to—relief?

"Copy that," he said to the air, then turned back to the group. "The submarine docks are history. Whole structure went down in the surge."

Kenji lifted his head too quickly, sending lightning through his skull. "Vega?"

"Also history."

"Are we certain?" The drugs made it hard to focus, but this was important. "The man's a snake. Slippery. Has more lives than?—"

"Dead certain," Ronan cut him off, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "Axel and Deke tried to extract him, but the dock collapsed. Storm surge took him. Nobody could survive that."

"Works for me," Spencer muttered with uncharacteristic darkness. "Sorry, not sorry."

A moment of silence fell over the room. Not comfortable, but necessary. Kenji found himself offering a quick prayer—not for Vega, exactly, but for justice served and evil stopped. Around him, he saw others doing the same, heads bowing briefly in shared gratitude for survival.

"Right then," Zara announced, breaking the moment with professional briskness. "Surgery time. This gunshot wound won't fix itself, and our borrowed surgeon is apparently eager to work on someone who got shot doing something heroic instead of stupid."

"There's a difference?" Kenji asked.

"Allegedly." She began preparing to move his gurney. "Though in your case, the line's pretty blurry."

Cassidy leaned down, her face close enough that he could see the worry she was trying to hide. "Looks like I'll be occupied for a while," he said, aiming for light but probably missing by miles.

"Try and stop me from being here when you wake up." Her fingers found his again, warm and steady and everything he needed.

As they began wheeling him toward whatever passed for an operating room in this makeshift facility, Ronan leaned down with a conspiratorial whisper. "Just a heads-up, buddy. You might want to get injured less often. Cassidy looks ready to kill you herself if this happens again."

"Noted," Kenji managed through a laugh that turned into a groan. Everything hurt, but somehow that was okay. Cassidy was safe. Spencer and Sophia had survived. His team was here.

Even the hurricane couldn't last forever. Right?

"Hey, Ro?" he called as they navigated through a doorway.

"Yeah?"

"Make sure someone gets pictures of that beam I shot. Axel will never believe?—"

"Already done," Zara interrupted. "We'll order you a huge print. Maybe even frame it. Definitely display it prominently at headquarters."

"You're all terrible people," Kenji mumbled, but the warmth in his chest had nothing to do with medication and everything to do with family.

"The worst," Ronan agreed cheerfully. "Now shut up and let the nice surgeon save your life. Again."

The last thing Kenji saw before the anesthesia claimed him was Cassidy's face through the doorway, her hand pressed to her cross, lips moving in what he knew was a prayer.

He closed his eyes, letting the darkness take him, secure in the knowledge that when he woke up, she'd be there. They all would.

Family did that.

Even the kind you found in hurricanes and chose through fire.