Page 86 of Viper

My breath whooshes from my lungs.

I knew they would come for us.

I stumble forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. I don’t care that he hates being touched. I don’t care if he tries to break my arms for hugging him, I’ve never been so happy to see Reaper in my entire life.

“Get the fuck off, you stink,” he says as he shoves me away.

“How did you find us?” I ask, drinking in the sight of him. His face, muscular body, his haunting black eyes. His uniform. I take a step back, really looking at him. At the all-black uniform, black gloves, gun in hand. He looks like a soldier.

A savior.

I grind my teeth, trying to hold back the tears. The nagging fear, and the days of stress from trying to keep Striker and Breaker alive finally make my knees weak, and I hold on to Reaper’s arm to steady myself. As much as I want to fall apart, I know I can’t.

He gestures to his side. “This kid here.”

As soon as my gaze locks onto those pale eyes, a chaotic swirl of emotions crashes through me. I rush forward and grab Breaker’s collar, not sure if I want to throttle him or hug him, but then I catch sight of the dried blood crusted on his temple, the swollen bruise on his forehead, and the blood staining his pants, and a cold shiver runs down my spine.

“You’re hurt?” I ask, barely able to get the words out. I grab at his clothes, looking for a bullet wound, knowing in the back of my head he’d be dead if he’d been shot, but I can’t seem to think past the sudden noise in my head.

“It’s not my blood,” Breaker says, then touches his head. “Well this is, but not the blood on my clothes.”

“Before you go apeshit, I knocked him out.” Hunter’s voice cuts through the woods as he emerges from behind a nearby tree. “It was easier to carry his scrawny ass than have him making a racket like he was. Running all over like a chicken with its head cut off.”

“Youran?” I hiss, my voice a low, dangerous whisper as I shake Breaker. His chin quivers, then he wraps his arms around me in a tight hug, and the tangled knot unravels in my chest.

I take a deep breath, holding him to me, before shoving him back and glancing around. We’re still out here in this nightmare, and now that I have my hands on this kid, I can fully process everything. Reaper and Hunter are here.

Completely geared out.

I take in their outfits, the fatigues, and black boots. The black gaiter Reaper pulled down off his face. The AK in his hands, the knife at his hip, the helmet. Hunter is dressed the same, all the way down to the knife and weapon.

They look like mercenaries.

Real soldiers.

Then again, they are.

And they are here to get us.

And they have water.

I grab the canteen at Reaper’s hip and unscrew it, taking a long pull.

“Easy.” He snatches it from my hands and adjusts it back on his belt, glaring at me. “You’ll make yourself sick if you drink too fast.”

“Where’s Striker?” Hunter asks, leaning sideways to peer past me.

Swiping my lips with the back of my hand, I grimace, but before I can open my mouth, Reaper grips my shirt, pulling me to him. His cool expression turns deadly. “Where the fuck is he?”

“I sent him ahead,” I say, prying his fingers from my shirt. He growls but lets me go. “He has a sprained ankle. I sent him to the cavern you told Breaker about.”

Hunter makes a strange sound in his throat and then says, “Okay. It’s easy to find. How long ago did you leave him?”

He saysleavelike I had a choice. “An hour?” I guess. “He’s leaving markers on every tree so I can find him.”

“Good, he’s smart. I’m sure he’s found it by now,” Hunter says, nodding. “Let’s get Striker, and we should make it to the airfield before sunset.”

“Airfield?” I ask. “You know about the plane?”