Page 179 of Knot Their Soldier: Part Three

The Betas manning the heavy gun quickly dismantle the important elements to render it useless, but they have to abandon it. It's too heavy to carry during a swift extraction.

Viper tightens his grip on my arm and hauls me up the road, tucked securely against his heaving side.

We're moving to the next fallback position. Barricades are staggered up the climb so each new wall can catch the survivors as we retreat. It will force the enemy to work for every stage they capture up the road to the fortress.

This retreat feels like my fault.

I asked our soldiers to trust me. Knox asked them to trust me. And I failed them.

Now the first barricade is being abandoned, and more soldiers have to give ground and die buying time because I gave them hope and did nothing with it.

"Stay close, we're moving," Knox shouts over the din because our bond is no longer transmitting thoughts between us in the chaos.

Knox doesn’t need to explain the formation. He just starts moving, and the rest of us fall into line like we’ve done this a thousand times. After all the training we did, it feels like we have.

The barricade makes one final groan and buckles with a deafening boom. The Humans waste no time, and they come spilling forth.

"Three coming center," Shade says.

I lean left, spot them between Viper and Knox, and fire twice. One drops and Viper catches the second with a kick to the head before I can line him up. Knox takes the third with a fist to the throat without even turning fully toward him.

"Stay closer," Viper says, and his hand lands briefly at my back, steering me tighter into the pocket between him and Shade.

We keep backing up, fighting to stay alive and together.

"Right side," Shade calls.

I fire, and another body drops.

Viper catches a stray bullet in his side, his blood misting over my face, but he doesn't stop for a second. The next punch he lands caves in his target's face.

If I make it through this, and it's not looking likely, I'll have nightmares about that for the rest of my life.

We move together so cleanly it feels less like reacting and more like muscle memory.

None of it feels forced. Months of training and the bond between us have worn these movements into me so deeply they come without thought.

I know how to move in combat with these soldiers. They taught my body again and again. I didn't understand at the time why we needed to practice fighting side-by-side, but I get it now. We're a team, a squad, a Pack, and we move as one.

Finally, Viper pulls me behind the next steel barrier and shoves me into a low crouch.

I do my best to shake off the crushing weight of my failure and prop the barrel of my rifle on top of the barrier and start lining up shots. I make myself focus only on shooting, because if I don't, I'll spiral, and the last thing anyone needs now, in the ultimate fight for our lives, is a panicking Omega.

Crack.

A head explodes.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

I'm transported back to my youth, shooting empty cans stacked on a log with my old, stolen rifle. I almost wish I could be back there — feeling the warmth of those innocent, lazy days with the sun sinking into my skin and the sweat pin-pricked on my brow.

"What do we do now?" I ask, squinting down my gun sights.

"We fight," Shade replies from my left. There is a nasty gash on his cheekbone, and it's healing sluggishly from his exhaustion. A twist of anxiety clenches in my belly because Shade's body can't take much more damage.

Viper plants himself on my right, his broad shoulders blocking any stray bullets coming toward Shade or me.

Knox stays close by as if he's afraid if he drifts away, his Pack won't be there when he comes back. He stands with one boot braced against the barricade, shouting into his radio. "Second rank up. Tighten the gap. Keep them off the steel."