Page 15 of What We Become

Nothing happens for so long I have time to imagine a future without her. To regret the time I’ve wasted, the words I’ve left unsaid.

On the third round, she convulses. Her body arches under us and bile and blood-streaked froth erupt all over Holden’s forearms. Her eyes snap open, already rolled white, and she gasps—not a sound, just the violent, choking vacuum of a person yanked back from the edge.

Micah loses it and starts sobbing.

I turn her head sideways as she retches some more, the sound awful and beautiful because it means she’s alive.

“That’s it, Fury,” I say. “Breathe. Keep breathing.”

Her eyes blink. Unfocused. Rolling. Then they find me.

She smiles. It’s small and wrecked and the most important thing I’ve ever seen.

“Knew you’d come,” she whispers.

My throat locks. Everything I’ve held—for hours, for months, for the entire time I’ve known this woman—presses against the back of my teeth. I don’t have the words. I’ve never had the words.

I roll her onto her side and brace her against my chest. My mouth moves, but nothing comes out. I’ve spent my whole life preparing to lose people. I’m not ready to lose her.

Holden’s hands are on my back, gripping tight. Micah is beside us, one hand fisted in the front of her dress, like if he lets go she’ll slide back under again. We sit in it for a whole minute, the three of us drenched in sweat and chemical stink and the salty spatter of Fury’s vomit, until her breathing settles into something shallow and ragged—mouth open, sides heaving, a bubbling rattle, but still there.

She looks at me. The whites of her eyes are threaded red, eyelids moving slow like it hurts to blink.

“I puked on myself,” she says. Half-laughing, half-crying, her voice a ragged scrape that barely qualifies as sound. “Oh shit. I puked on Holden too.”

“Wildcat, if it means you’re breathing, you can puke on me a dozen more times.”

A faint smile ghosts over her lips. “Don’t tempt me.”

Holden lets out a slight chuckle as he gets to his feet, pulling out his phone and pressing it to his ear.

“Fury,” I murmur, running my thumb along the sticky skin of her cheek. “I can’t keep nearly losing you. You don’t leave my sight again.”

She smiles again. “Fair,” she croaks out. And then her eyes close and her body goes slack against my chest.

“Fuck, is she—?” Micah presses his fingers to her neck, visibly relaxing when he feels the pulse. “Passed out. She’s passed out.”

“She needs oxygen,” I say, swinging my gaze to where Holden is talking to Odin on the phone. Calling an ambulance means questions, and questions will lead to a wall full of foam-coated threads we can’t afford to pull.

“We need a medical extraction at the Davis property,” Holden says. “Chemical inhalation. Respiratory distress. She’s breathing but compromised. Treat Jamie Mercer as Stephen. Put every available person on him.” A pause. “Yes. Full resources. Every asset you can spare.”

He hangs up. Looks at me. Looks at Fury, unconscious in my arms.

“Helicopter will be here in twelve minutes,” he says. “Odin’s sending medical and tactical. We hold position until they arrive.”

“I’m going with her,” I say before anyone can tell me otherwise.

Holden nods. “Micah, you should go too. I’ll stay here.” I can see what that costs him—the slight tightening around his mouth, the way his hand curls into a fist and then deliberately uncurls. “I need to manage the scene. That helicopter’s going to attract eyes.”

“Eli and Milo?” Micah asks.

“I’ll call them. They can meet me here and help run interference.” Holden stands. “I need Odin’s cleanup crew. None of this mess can exist by morning. It needs to look like we were never here.”

Eli’s going to hear that Micah and I brought her back. Last time it was him.

Micah moves to kneel beside me. His hands are steadier now, but his eyes are wrecked.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs, lightly touching her jaw. “We’re getting you out of here.”