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The explosion rocked the SUVs on their wheels and blew out the windows.
Ethan swore and jerked the wheel to keep them from crashing into a huge piece of concrete that slammed into the road in front of them. He slammed on the brakes, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt. Dust and smoke billowed from the building ahead, obscuring everything in a hazy gray cloud.
“Jesus Christ,” Donovan murmured, righting himself in the backseat. “What the hell just happened?”
Rylan didn’t wait for a response. He was already pushing open his door, assault rifle in hand.
According to Oz’s intel, Pierce and Rhiannon were in that warehouse.
“They could still be alive.” His voice sounded hollow even to his own ears. His hand shook so hard he could barely grip his rifle.
“Yeah, of course, they could. There’s always a chance,” Zak said, his voice weirdly rusty. He let Raszta out of the vehicle. “Razzy, search. Find Pierce. Find Rhia. Search.”
Moving in tight formation, they picked their way through the debris field, weapons ready. The acrid stench of smoke choked the air. Small fires still burned here and there. It looked like a war zone.
Raszta moved over the rubble effortlessly, nose to the ground, poking through piles of concrete and rebar.
“Over here!” one of Ethan’s men called.
Rylan spun toward the voice as two men pulled a sheet of metal off a body—a horribly charred body. It didn’t even look human anymore.
“Pierce?” Rylan croaked.
“No,” Zak said, grasping his shoulder in a steadying grip. “Rylan, breathe. This body is too big. Too much fat to be Pierce. C’mon, let’s keep searching.”
Raszta let out a sharp bark and began digging furiously at a mound of concrete and twisted metal. Rylan’s heart leaped into his throat as he rushed over, the others close behind.
“I see something!” Zak called out, pointing. “Look under there. A hole in the floor.”
“Someone’s in there. Help me!” Images of Rhiannon’s vibrant smile flashed through Rylan’s mind as he lifted chunk after chunk of concrete and threw it aside.
Rhia couldn’t be gone.
Pierce couldn’t be gone.
He refused to believe it.
His muscles burned, his breath came in short, panicked gasps, and sweat dripped off him in rivers, blurring his vision.
Or maybe that was tears.
He couldn’t tell anymore.
Time passed in a haze of frantic movements and desperate prayers. Each piece of debris he cleared only amplified the dread coiling in his stomach.
Beside him, Zak and the others worked furiously, their faces grim with determination.
“Come on, come on,” Rylan muttered, his voice breaking. “Please be alive.”
With a final heave, they cleared the last of the concrete. The hole in the floor—formerly some kind of vent—yawned open, revealing a small, dark space beneath the rubble.
Zak shone a flashlight into the opening, illuminating two huddled forms. Pierce lay curled protectively around Rhiannon, his body shielding hers from the debris. Both were covered in dust and blood, their eyes closed, unmoving.
Raszta lay down and stared over the edge of the hole at his favorite person. He whined, the sound like a heartbreaking question.
Zak set a soothing hand on his head. “It’s okay, pal,” he murmured. “You found them. You did good. You’re a good dog.”
“No, no, no,” Rylan chanted under his breath as he reached for them with shaking hands. He pressed trembling fingers to their necks, feeling for a pulse. “Come on, sis. Don’t do this to me.”
