Page 70 of Burn Like An Angel

Wind whipping and voices bellowing. More bullets. Distant shouts. Crunching footsteps. Birch trees reappear all around us.

I’m cradled safely into a firm chest.

Broad. Warm. Adorned with military dog tags.

I’m… safe.

“Hold on, Rip,” Lennox whispers raggedly. “I’ve got you.”

CHAPTER 11

LENNOX

IN YOUR ARMS – CROIXX

Ripley’sround curves are featherlight in my arms. She’s too small. Dainty. A delicate, tattooed shell holding so much beautiful fury. The same fury I’ve tasted first-hand.

I still wonder how such a tiny body can hold all that rage. What I wouldn’t give for her to peel open her angry, hazel eyes and curse me out right now. I’d take any insult she wants to lash me with.

She can beat me black, blue and every shade of the fucking rainbow if she so pleases. As long as she’s awake. As long as she’s alive. Then we can go back to hating each other. I’ll give her that.

“Is it clear?” I heave in exertion.

Xander peers through a dirt-streaked window, the thick cobwebs obscuring our view of the other farm buildings we stumbled across. We must’ve walked for miles before exiting the forest and finding signs of life.

“Helicopter still overhead.”

“The same one?” Raine asks tiredly.

“Looks like it. They’re circling the area.”

Cradling Ripley close, I keep my uninjured hand clamped on her upper thigh. The bleeding has slowed to a sluggish trickle.Xander tore up one of our spare shirts to tie a tourniquet before bandaging his own hand.

She’s still lost a considerable amount of blood, enough for her to keep dropping in and out during the hours we’ve been stealthily moving. I can feel it sticking to me, saturating my already filthy clothing.

“It’s been hours.” Raine rests nearby, keeping a hand on Ripley’s pulse. “They’ll give up soon.”

“You think Incendia cares about a private helicopter bill?” Xander ridicules. “That wanker Elon said it himself. We’re loose ends.”

Back pressed against the wall, I glance down at Ripley again. Her sweetheart-shaped face is ashen. Waxy. The bullet passed straight through—I found the exit wound. That doesn’t make blood loss any less deadly.

It’s a miracle we escaped at all without catching another bullet. They sure fired enough of them after us before attempting to scale the security fence. I caught a glimpse of an over-confident guard falling on his ass before we made a run for it.

I have no doubt they eventually followed. On foot as well as in the air. The near-impenetrable woodland that keeps Harrowdean Manor secure from the outside world did us a favour. It was easy to lose their tail.

But now that we need to find safety? Not so great. We also need food, water and medical attention. Our varying degrees of mud-streaked skin, unkempt hair and drawn faces will scare anyone off.

“We need to find a doctor. A pharmacy. Anything,” I fret anxiously. “Her wound needs treating.”

Xander abandons his watch to approach us. The juicy vein throbbing at his temple betrays his anxiety, even if he’s plastered his steely mask back in place for the sake of remaining calm.

He isn’t fooling me.

Tension he can no longer suppress pulls his skin tight across sharp angles and defined bones. While he uses his ethereal looks to his advantage when hunting prey, he looks more like a starved ghost than a model right now.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere.” He studies Ripley’s slack face. “Harrowdean is deep in the countryside, miles from the nearest town or city.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Raine drawls.

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