by Kit Rocha
She kept an eye on Hawk, too. He took charge as easily as his mother, directing the people who came to him for guidance. He focused on the equipment, getting whatever could be driven ready to move, and helping to load the rest onto flat trailers to be hauled away.
Outwardly, he looked calm. Collected. But Jeni watched as tension lined his shoulders, tighter and tighter, drawing him in on himself, as if the constant pressure was the only thing keeping him from flying apart.
It made her throat ache and her eyes burn. But she kept the tears at bay, kept going, because if he could do this, then she damn well better be able to help him.
The sky was just beginning to lighten along the eastern horizon when she seized the chance to pull him aside. Most of the vehicles were long gone, loaded down with possessions and people. Only Shipp's men and some of Hawk's family remained, finishing up what needed to be done.
Jeni urged Hawk into the barn. It was bare and cavernous now, stripped of everything they could haul away, a completely different place from the building where she'd accepted his collar—Christ, it seemed like a lifetime ago.
She gripped his shoulders and almost winced at how rigid his muscles were beneath her fingers. “Hawk, look at me.”
He did, but there was nothing there. His usual guarded expression had hardened into something even more heartbreaking—a blank mask.
“Hawk.” She touched his cheek, right on the spot where a dimple would appear every time he smiled, and wondered if she'd ever see it again. “Are you going to make it through this?”
The muscles under her fingers tightened. “It's harder than I thought it would be.”
Do you need to go? The words died on her tongue. Useless, a waste of breath, because he would never abandon his family. She would never ask him to. “I wish I could fix this for you.”
He curled his hand around the side of her neck, his thumb coming to rest on the medallion on her collar. “There's only one way to fix this.”
It didn't sound like he was talking about winning the war. There was something too intimate, too desperate, in his voice. “I don't understand.”
“By sunset tonight there'll be nothing left,” he said softly. “My entire past, burned to ash. I need to keep dreaming, Jeni, but I can't do it by myself. I need to believe you see a future for us, too.”
A tiny sliver of ice lodged in her gut. “You know how I feel about you. About us.”
“I know.” A feverish light filled his gaze. Instead of being hard and cold now, he was shaking with barely restrained emotion. “But today isn't enough. Now isn't enough. I want forever, Jeni. I want ink.”
If he hadn't been holding her, she would have stumbled back. “What?”
“It shouldn't make a difference.” He touched the collar again. “If you want me enough for this, then why not?”
Because his world was falling apart. Because he was spinning, feeling powerless about so many things that this could be nothing more than a way to center himself, to feel like he was in control of something, which meant it wasn't about her at all.
And, above all else, because he'd told her the same thing about the collar she was wearing—that it meant she was his, that it was more than enough. That it was everything.
“No,” she whispered.
Pain twisted his expression, carving lines into his face before he forced the blank mask back into place. But it was imperfect, cracked, radiating his hurt and his desperation as his hand trembled on her skin. “Then maybe I don't know how you feel about me after all.”
For one horrible moment, she thought about simply walking away. It hurt that he would ask her like this, with the earth shifting beneath them, when she couldn't be sure if he meant it or if he was just scrambling for purchase. But she couldn't do it. She couldn't.
She took a deep breath instead. “Hawk, you know this isn't the time—”
“When?” His harsh question cut deep. “When it's too fucking late? There is no time. Or am I just the guy you fuck when the world's ending, not after we save it?”
The ice was taking over now, everywhere but in her burning eyes. She clamped her lips together and bit her tongue, anything to keep the sob rising in her chest from escaping. Finally, she dragged herself under control enough to speak. “That's why not. Because you're upset. You're so upset you're saying things you don't mean.”
“And you're managing me.” Hawk's hand fell away, leaving them close but not touching. The empty space between them was a few insignificant inches—and an impassable chasm. “At least be real with me. Be honest.”
“Why?” The word materialized without thought, without second-guessing, and Jeni plunged ahead. “You've been lying about everything. You're lying to me right now.”
“Lying? About what?”
“All your dreams.” It hurt to think, and even more to say aloud, with him looking at her like she was breaking his heart. “You paint pretty pictures, but you don't believe them. You think we're all going to die—that's why you need this now, now, now. Why you can't wait for both of us to have our heads on straight. And I don't even blame you. Sometimes I think we're all going to die, too. But when I admit it, you act like—you act like it means I'm giving up or that I don't love you, and that's not fucking fair. It's not right.”
Hawk reached for her, his hand hovering over her cheek, his face suddenly stricken. “Jeni—”
“Don't.” Her cheeks were wet with tears, her vision blurred. “I gave you things that I shouldn't have, and I knew better.”
He wiped away her tears with his thumb. “I'm sorry. I just— Fuck, Jeni. I just wanted one thing in my life—” He cut off as a wash of red light filled the barn through its open doors.
The sky outside blazed with exploding flares hanging high in the clouds. More were rising to the east—
In the direction of the city.
“Fuck.” Hawk's hand closed around hers, tight and warm. “We need to get you to the car.”
Jeni dug in her heels. “People are still here—”
“No arguments.” His tension and uncertainty were gone, washed away. The man who dragged her out of the barn was a soldier who calmly and quickly assessed the chaos of the people spilling out of buildings and running toward cars before hauling her toward the main house.
Another flare shot into the sky to the northeast. Red smoke billowed from it, like blood spilling across the lightening sky. Hawk's jaw clenched as he hurried their steps. “Anderson's farm. We have to move.”
A flurry of sharp pops somewhere off in the distance broke through Jeni's shock. “That's gunfire.”
“No shit, that's gunfire.” Shipp jumped off the porch, swung a rifle off his shoulder, and tossed it to Hawk. “They're headed this way.”
Hawk checked the rifle. “Who's left to evacuate?”
Shipp hesitated. “Alya's freaking out. We can't find Luna.”
Jeni blanched. No one should have been running around alone on a night like this, a night when they were packing up their whole lives to flee. “One of the little ones was upset earlier. He couldn't find his stuffed toy—Luna promised him she'd bring it.”
“Okay.” Hawk prodded Jeni toward his car as Alya came out the front door. “Ma, Jeni and I are going to look for Luna. You guys need to—”
Something hot and wet splashed on Jeni's arm. She looked down, expecting to see water, rain, anything but the dark blotches that covered her skin and shirt.
Then Hawk slammed into her, driving her to the ground.
And Alya started screaming.
“Stay down,” Hawk hissed before rolling away.
Wood shattered above Jeni's head. Everything seemed far away and in slow motion as she looked up. Fire, blazing in the distance. Big John reaching for Alya as she dove across the grass and clawed her way up Shipp's body—
Shipp's body. He stared into the night—fixed, unseeing. A dead man's eyes. The side of his head was gone, blown out all over the cool green grass.
All over her.
Her fingers slipped on his bloody cheek. Found the edge of his wound.
She threw her head back and screamed.
Big John hauled her up, blood streaming from his nose, painting his face dark in the predawn light. “Go,” he growled. “I've got her.”
Hawk froze on his knees, his gaze swinging from his dead friend to his sobbing mother. But John was already running into the darkness, shoving Alya's face against his shoulder to quiet her cries.
Hawk grabbed Jeni's hand hard, but she barely felt it. She barely felt anything as he tugged her to her feet and herded her toward the side of the house, hunched over her, his body forming a solid wall between her and the direction of the shots.
When they made it around the side of the wall, he crouched and tugged her down with him. “Which kid was it? Who was talking to Luna?”
Every time Jeni tried to remember the child's face, all she could see was Shipp. “Curly b-blond hair, about four years old. Reese?”
“Royce.” Hawk tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her close. “He likes to play in the old chicken coop. It's back behind the garden.”
Jeni had seen the old coop during her tour of the farm. They used it as a potting shed now, because of its proximity to the garden. But that was on the far side of the house, close to—
She clutched at Hawk's shirt. “The fields on that side are already burning fast. We'll need your car.”
“I know.” He still held the rifle in his other hand. “You remember where we parked it? Go as fast as you can and stay low. I'll be right behind you, Jeni.”
She nodded and took off. It wasn't far to the shed Hawk used as a makeshift garage, but it seemed like she ran forever. Her lungs burned, and her heart thumped painfully. For one brief, terrifying moment, she imagined arriving at the car only to find herself alone, with Hawk nowhere to be found.
She didn't dare look back. Instead, she ran faster.
Panting, she slipped into the shed, then froze at the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked.
Hawk lunged in front of her, both hands up, his rifle pointed toward the ceiling. “Luna, it's us. It's Hawk.”
The girl stepped out of the darkness with a sob. Her hair was a mess, her face streaked with soot and tears. She relinquished the huge revolver to Hawk, but she refused to let go of the grimy stuffed bear she clutched in her other hand. “I heard screaming.”
“The soldiers are close.” Hawk dragged Luna toward his car, and she scrambled into the back seat. Then he pulled open the passenger-side door for Jeni and pressed the pistol into her hands. “Can you use this?”
“Yes.” Gia made sure all her girls could defend themselves.
He squeezed her hand once before clambering into the car, sliding all the way over to the driver's seat. Jeni followed, groping for the door as the engine rumbled loudly in the tiny shed.
She clawed the door shut, and Hawk shifted gears. “Hold on.”
The car surged forward and crashed through the wall. Wood splintered, flying in every direction as they drove straight into hell. All around them, the grass and fields burned in patches that were quickly spreading.
Too quickly. How could it happen that fast? Jeni twisted in the seat to look back at the main house. The blaze was licking at the porch already, and she watched as a column of hot orange traveled straight up to the roof.
“Oh, my God. Oh, God.” Luna whispered the words hoarsely, barely audible over the rumble of the engine, and Jeni realized the girl was staring at the blood that stained her shirt. “Who?”
Hawk shifted gears again, and they shot over the last patch of grass and out onto the dirt road. Gravel plinked against the car as the tires threw it up in all directions, and Hawk's hand clenched on the gearshift. “Shipp,” he said finally, his voice flat and empty.
Luna shook her head. “No.”
The glow from the fires growing behind them cast the interior of the car with eerie shadows. Hawk seemed carved from stone, any hint of emotion hidden beneath smooth efficiency. He checked the mirrors and flicked off the headlights, plunging the road ahead of them into darkness. “I'm going to try to outrun anyone who might be following us. Luna, take my rifle.”
She reached over the seat for the weapon. “Did—?” Her voice failed. “Did Alya…?”
“Big John is with her.” Jeni squeezed Luna's arm, but her words were as much for Hawk as for his sister. “She's fine. She'll be fine.”
A muscle jumped in his jaw. “We only have to make it to Five. Ryder will have people watching for this. They'll have our backs.”
Luna choked on another sob, this one more heartache than terror. “Does it matter? It's all gone, Hawk, everything is gone.”
He shifted gears again. Jeni couldn't see the way ahead of them, but Hawk seemed to know it. Even as the bright glow behind them faded, the car stayed steady, following the curves of the road.
They climbed a hill, and for a moment Jeni could see the whole of the farm behind them, flames reaching for the sky, the entire house ablaze now. Then they reached the top and slipped down the other side, and everything plunged into pure darkness.
“The house is gone,” he said softly. “But the people are still alive, Luna. That's what matters. That's what Shipp would have cared about. Getting everyone out, and not giving up.”
“And look where it got him,” she shot back.
Jeni twisted in her seat again. “Luna...” The words died when something caught her eye off the side of the road—the dull glint of scarce moonlight off metal.
The moment hovered, drawn out by terror and disbelief. The sound of a second engine swelled, and blinding light filled the car. It took forever, an eternity, and it all happened so fast that Jeni didn't even have time to draw a breath.
The truck hit them hard. The impact jolted her against the window, and pain seared a single thought into her brain—this is it, this is the end. Someone screamed, though it might have been her. There was no way to tell, not with the whole world spinning, awash with agony and confusion and fear and the most unholy screeching she'd ever heard.
Then it was over. Everything was still, quiet.
Too quiet.
She opened her eyes. Hawk was slumped over the steering column, and all the fear she'd ever felt in her entire life paled next to this. She was mumbling something, something, but she couldn't even listen to herself because she needed to touch him, she needed to know—
Her fingers found the base of his neck and the pulse pounding there, too fast but strong, and she could breathe again.
She could breathe, and she sobbed her relief in hot tears that poured down her cheeks. “Hawk, wake up. We have to fight—”
“Jeni.” Luna lay slumped over in the back seat. She didn't move, even when Jeni reached to help her sit up. “This isn't...exactly what I imagined.”
She lifted her arm, and Jeni saw the jagged piece of metal protruding from her side.
“It doesn't hurt,” Luna whispered. “Something like this should hurt.”
Then she died. There was nothing cinematic about it, no last rattling breath or profound words. The light didn't slowly fade from her eyes. She was there and then she wasn't, as quick and as horrible as the truck slamming into the car all over again.
Jeni screamed. She was still screaming when rough hands dragged her from the car and across the gravel.
She didn't know if she could stop.
Ryder
He'd never watched a sector burn.
When Eden bombed Three, he only saw the aftermath, the plumes of smoke that had risen from behind the city's shining towers for days. When they blew up Two, his view had been obscured by Sector Four.
But Six? Six was right in his fucking backyard—and it was in flames.
/> The wind shifted, blowing acrid smoke across the large balcony that ran the length of his private quarters. Mac Fleming had used this penthouse as a playground, a place to bring women, snort whatever, and survey everything he commanded. Mac's successor, Logan Beckett, hadn't used it at all. He never had the chance.
Ryder used it as his home, but not because he liked it. No, its overstated opulence served as a reminder—and a warning.
He lifted the receiver beside him and waited. The internal line rang through directly to his second-in-command, a man he'd handpicked from a factory in Eight. The job would have gone to Finn, if he hadn't up and joined O'Kane's merry band of brothers. But he had, so Ryder had been left to look elsewhere.
It wasn't that he didn't trust any of the men he'd worked with in Five to get shit done, he just didn't trust them to get his shit done. Every one of them had an agenda, mostly involving money or drugs or fucking over the guys ahead of them in the hierarchy of power. They were selfish, and that was one thing Ryder couldn't stand.
Hector answered, his voice heavy with sleep. “Sir?”
“The city has taken Six.” He gave the man a moment to process that before continuing. “They'll be headed this way next. Get as many men as possible on the western border. And tell the factory supervisors that it's time to switch to full wartime production.”
“You got it.”
War. The word should have filled him with terror, but there was no room in his heart for fear. It was too full of anger, loss. Vengeance.
He wasn't Dallas O'Kane, a man sitting at the top of a pretty little empire filled with people he was desperate to protect. Ryder had always been a soldier with a mission—take down the Eden-sympathetic leaders of Sector Five. Controlling the manufacture and supply of essential medications was the first step in Jim's eventual plan to bring down the city itself.
A plan that had almost died with him.
Ryder walked inside, secured the sliding door behind him, and reached for the tablet on his desk. With a few swipes, he sent a brusque message to the other sector leaders. It wasn't flowery, but it would tell them what they needed to know.
Because their sectors weren't in immediate danger. No, his was the one sitting between Eden's forces and their target—Dallas O'Kane. And it was just as well. He belonged on the front lines of this conflict. It was part of his destiny, his legacy.
