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“But until I can be sure, we can’t let our guard down.”
Rhiannon’s gaze held his for a long moment, her expression troubled. Then she nodded. “All right. I’ll take the first watch.”
“No,”he signed instantly.“I’ll take the first watch. You need to rest.”
“I need peace of mind,” she replied, her chin lifting stubbornly. “And I won’t have that until we’re safe.” Her eyes softened as they met his, a gentle understanding in their depths. “You need to sleep, Pierce. You haven’t stopped moving since the first tremor. Let me take care of you for a little while.“
His argument fizzled out before it even formed. He didn’t want to admit he was running on fumes, but he suspected she could see right through him, could see the toll this entire ordeal was taking on him. His mask of stoicism was failing him, and he despised it.
A sigh escaped him as he finally nodded.“Fine, you win. But wake me after a few hours so I can take over.”
“Deal.” She moved away then, going to each member of their group and explaining the situation with a calm authority he admired.
He hated that she was no longer beside him, no longer touching him.
Fuck.
He was tired.
Pierce scrubbed his hands over his face and moved to the furthest corner of the room. He stretched out on his back, and Raszta curled at his side with a low whine, sensing his exhaustion and anxiety. He set a comforting hand on his dog and closed his eyes, but sleep felt like an impossible task.
As he lay there, listening to the ragged breathing of the exhausted group and the soft murmur of Rhiannon’s voice as she reassured them, the past clawed at him, threatening to pull him into its clutches. Ghosts of failures and fears scratched at the edges of his mind.
There was so much he could have done differently. So much he should have done differently.
He shouldn’t have run.
How many lives could he have saved if he’d stayed? If he’d fought? If he’d found the strength to confront his demons instead of being swallowed by them?
A cold sweat broke out on his skin as images of the past bled into the present—the charred remains of a crumbled building, the wet slickness of blood on his hands, the echoes of screams.
He opened his eyes again and stared at the ceiling, the dull uniformity of its surface offering little distraction from his thoughts.
How much longer could he keep running from his past before it finally caught up with him?
What if it alreadyhadcaught up to him?
Fuck.
No.
He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t afford to dwell on his fears. He had a job to do—protect these people, protect Rhiannon—and he was damn well going to do it.
He pushed himself to his feet.
He would deal with his demons later.
Maybe.
chapter
six
Rhiannon crouched beside Michael,brushing a hand gently over his forehead. The boy was still sleeping soundly, oblivious to the chaos around him. Raszta lay protectively beside him. The dog’s dark, mop-like fur blended into the shadows, save for his bubblegum pink tongue, which lolled happily out of his mouth. He loved the attention from the boy. She smiled at them. At least one person in this room felt safe.
She wished she could say the same for herself.
The tension in the gift shop was thick, suffocating even. Every creak from the ceiling and every shift of the debris piled against the entrance sent a jolt of fear through the group. It was only a matter of time before panic set in—especially with Dean stirring up trouble at every turn.
