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nine
Pierce rolledover on his sleeping mat. He couldn’t get comfortable. Too many thoughts raced in his mind, too many memories storming through his consciousness, and it didn’t help that someone was snoring loudly.
He squeezed his eyes shut, and he tried to push away the memories, the explosion, the metallic taste of fear, the cold sting of the shrapnel that sliced open his neck, the hot spurt of his blood between his fingers as he gasped for breath that refused to come. He remembered the horror in the eyes of the medics as they loaded him onto a helicopter. They hadn’t expected him to survive. Hell, he hadn’t expected it, and he’d been shocked to wake up in Germany with his head still on his shoulders.
He’d always suspected he’d been the true target of that attack. Yeah, the army had claimed it was a random act of aggression against their convoy, but he knew better. He’d left Project Iron Horizon barely a month before that “random act of aggression.” He’d voiced his concerns about the Tectra-X weapon, and so they had tried to silence him.
Permanently.
And they had managed to take away his voice, but he’d known it wouldn’t be good enough for them. They wantedhim gone, so he’d disappeared, and he’d thought—hoped—that would be the end of it.
But last month, when Redwood Coast Rescue took down that fucking cult, he’d known right then that his quiet life was crashing down around him. The cult leader had been obsessed with finding a device…
Hisdevice.
Tectra-X.
And so, as soon as he was able, he’d packed a bag and left, hoping to spare his teammates the inevitable shitstorm headed his way.
His thoughts turned to his friends at RWCR. Sawyer. Zak. Donovan. Veronica. The four of them had been his lifeline, a family who knew nothing of his past but accepted him nonetheless. They embraced his silence and let him be, giving him the distance he craved. But even with them, he always had one foot out the door, ready to vanish at the first hint of danger.
He rubbed at his scars. They felt tighter than usual like they were choking him. Or maybe that was panic.
Yeah, definitely panic.
He reached down by his side, searching for the comforting warmth of his dog…
Raszta wasn’t there.
His eyes popped open, and he shot upright, scanning the room in a frantic sweep. His gaze landed on Rhia a few feet away, and the panic swirling inside him calmed to a mild buzz of anxiety. She was sound asleep, her chest rising and falling gently with each easy breath. Raszta was stretched out on his back beside her, his feet in the air, his tongue hanging out, happy as a clam with her arm around him.
Pierce felt a strange jab of… something.
Jealousy?
Was he jealous that his dog was curled up beside her?
No.
That was ridiculous.
Pierce exhaled, the tension leaving his body as he sank back to his mat.
Raszta was okay.
Rhia was okay.
He was okay.
For now.
His gaze lingered on Rhia, the quiet rustle of her breath lulling him into a trance. The little bit of moonlight filtering through the rubble illuminated her face, casting a soft, ethereal glow around her. Her lips parted on a soft sigh, and a bolt of yearning shot through him, sharp and unexpected.
Jesus.
This was wrong.
She was his friend’s sister.
