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He narrows his eyes, looking like he wants to kill me. “I’ll be sure to let Dray get a hit in once you’re dead, make him feel better.”

“She dies, you die,” Dray warns, but he doesn’t seem bothered, instead relaxing into his chair, trusting me to win this.

“Why does everything have to be to the death?” Evan grumbles again, making us all laugh.

“Aww, Doc, don’t ruin our fun,” I tease, just as Bern comes up and places a gun on the table between Archel and me. “Ladies first,” I gibe, gesturing at him.

Archel picks up the gun without hesitation, places it to his forehead, and pulls the trigger.

He grins at me and offers me the gun. I grab it and like him, don’t hesitate to hold it to my head and pull the trigger.

It’s an old style gun, one Berserkers only use for this game, and I know the chamber holds six bullets. Four more chances.

I hold it out to him and he licks his lips before taking it and pulling the trigger, he lets out a sigh as I grin.

Three more chances, one with a bullet.

My heart is racing, my thoughts whirling, but I won’t stand down now. Pressing the cool metal to the middle of my head, I meet his eyes and pull the trigger. My heart skips and my eyes want to close, but nothing happens except an empty click, so I blow out a low breath and pass it over.

Two chances. One of us will get the bullet.

“Scared, assassin?” I taunt. “I’ve faced worse odds, have you?”

“Every day,” he confesses and pulls the trigger. I see his eyes wince, but nothing happens so he grins. “Your turn, queen, do you pull or give up?”

“I never give up.” I grab the gun.

“Then you die. It’s not about winning every fight, it’s about always getting back up,” Archel counters, leaning back, knowing he has me.

“And sometimes, it’s about being the smartest in the room,” I reply, aiming the weapon at my forehead, and just as I squeeze the trigger, I point the gun away and the bullet connects with the wall. “We only had to pull the trigger, we didn’t specify it had to be aimed at us.”

He bursts into laughter and I join in. Bern slaps the table as everyone else adds their mirth. Dray kisses my shoulder before whispering in my ear, “I fucking love you.”

I grin wider and then feel guilty for it. I shouldn’t be having a good time when God knows what is happening to my men. My smile fades, but they don’t notice, thank God. “I’ll grab some food,” I say and stand up, stretching out my back.

Sands below, let them be okay.

I head to the biggest fire where they are roasting meat, some cooling to the side.

When they spot me coming, they quickly grab a lot and add it to a tray they must have brought with them.

“Thank you,” I tell them before turning away and bringing it back to the table.

I spot water and what looks like moonshine already on the table when I get back, and plonk the meat in the middle.

Bern grabs some, immediately ripping into it.

Henry is a more delicate eater, and Archel just nibbles.

Evan grimaces, but eats a bit anyway. Dray rips into it like an animal, his other hand landing on my thigh under the table.

I eat and listen to their banter, but my mind is on my men again, wondering what they are going through right now. We are under the same sky with miles between us, yet I can still feel the connection there. I miss them.

An explosion rocks under my feet and I grab the table to steady myself.

When the shifting stops, I hop up and I see everyone else doing the same, staring towards the bunker.

I’m guessing they set off another explosive or it was triggered manually.

We haven’t heard one in a while. When nothing else happens, I slowly sit down, knowing there is nothing I can do.

They have sealed the doors, this is their fight.

The silence eventually lessens as people start talking again, but everyone is on high alert, throwing glances at the wall, wondering what is happening down there.

Something is bugging me about the bomb…they aren’t really Berserker style.

I’m not saying we haven’t used them in the past and some warriors know how to handle them, but they aren’t our preferred method.

Too impersonal. Did Berserkers really set the bombs?

We saw no proof, just had the word of the ca ptain.

Biting my lower lip, I stand again, needing some answers only my father can provide.

“Stay here,” I tell them, before striding away to the dweller section of the camp.

The dwellers duck out of my way as I pass.

I snort when I spot five of them trying to start a fire, they really are helpless up here.

I find my father talking to a group of people in hushed whispers.

He doesn’t stop as I approach and I catch the tail ends of, “Trust them,” and “It will be okay,” so I guess it’s reassurance.

The people nod and wander away, leaving me with my father.

I don’t have time to mess around, I need to figure out why it’s bugging me.

“Do you have explosives down there?” I question.

He frowns. “Yes, of course, they are locked up in the armoury.”

It was mentioned the Berserkers must have breached the armoury. Could it be that simple and I’m looking at this too hard? “How many explosions can the bunker withstand?”

“It depends where the blasts are located, each section was built with their own blast doors to contain radiation and explosions, so in theory, if sections are compromised, they automatically seal. It will be liveable, if not all sections are ruined and the blast doors work,” he answers.

“That’s a lot of ifs,” I grumble, rubbing at my head.

I feel responsible for these people. They are helpless if the doors don’t open tomorrow. What do I do? I have to choose between looking after the defenceless or moving on to find my men…

Sitting around the campfire with our warriors, I let their talking and laughter wash over me, and they eventually pull me into the conversation and out of my own mind where I am obsessing over the bombs and my men.

“What about you, Worth?” someone asks.

I raise my eyebrows, looking around to see the gathered warriors, including Dray, Henry, and Erik watching me. “Me what?”

“We are showing old war and battle stories, show us your best scar.” He grins, the fire lighting his face comically as he leans forward. I smirk, I can’t help it. Most would be disgusted by scars, but Berserkers collect them like toys to show off and play with.

I think about it before flashing my shoulder scar, tracing my finger across it.

“Got kidnapped by a Worshiper and locked up in his basement. He stabbed me with a blade when I pissed him off. I pulled it out and killed him with it,” I tell them, and laughter sounds around me as I carry on, pointing out one on my elbow next.

“Feral tried to bite off my damn arm, I let him chew on it while I hacked at him. I was drunk as hell.” I pull my shirt up and point at one across my side.

“I got this one fucking a girl at The Rim. She got a bit wild and we were both drunk. She tried to play with my knives and ended up stabbing me,” I admit around a laugh.

“What about you, Henry?” I inquire, and he launches into a showcase of battle scars.

We laugh until late into the night, sharing war stories and our escapes, and just bonding.

We all know each day could be our last, our stories carved into our skin through our scars, so for one night we let go and enjoy the camaraderie.

The peace before the storm. A yawn escapes me, so Dray and I head to my tent after saying goodnight and making sure the patrols are in place.

I’m exhausted, and as soon as my head hits the sleeping bag, I am out.

Another explosion wakes me much later into the night, and I can’t seem to get back to sleep. Dray is wrapped around me, snoring softly, his face harsh even in his slumber. Watching him and stroking his chest, I let my mind wander.

My back is cold and I wish one of my other men were curled up around it—probably Maxen, since he always has my back, my rock.

Thorn would be playing with my hair, while Drax would be cheeky with his head in my lap, with Jax curled at my feet, always protecting me.

If I close my eyes, I can almost see them, smell them, feel their touch along my skin, and their whispers in my ear. I fall asleep thinking of them.

Noise has me sitting up and I slip out of the bag, already dressed.

I grab my sword as Dray hops up, going from deep sleep to awake instantly.

I throw him a worried look and hurry outside.

Shielding my eyes from the early morning rays, I spot the watcher on one of the next building’s roof pointing into the distance just as a patrol comes skidding to a stop right in front of me.

“Someone’s coming,” he tells me.