Page 43 of The Knight

She stood a few paces away, her back to him. He traced the graceful curve of her ear, partially obscured by loose tendrils of hair that caught the harsh morning sunlight. The golden strands shimmered.

A fierce surge of protectiveness washed over him, almost overwhelming in its intensity.Keep it together. Her life depends on you staying focused.

“Freya—”

“We need to fix you up.” She turned her attention on his arm. Concern etched lines around her mouth.

He attempted a nonchalant shrug, immediately regretting the movement as pain flared anew. “It’s just a flesh wound,”

“There’s a first aid kit in my backpack. Wait there.” She scrambled to her feet, tucking a crumpled tissue into her pocket before jogging back toward the abandoned SUV. When she returned, there was a fresh determination in the depths of her eyes. Despite everything they’d been through, she was holding it together. He couldn’t help but admire her resilience.

“Sit here.” Her hand pressed firmly on his uninjured shoulder. “Let me take a proper look.”

His senses went into overdrive. The subtle scent of her shampoo mingled with the earthy smell of dust and sweat. He was acutely aware of her proximity, the soft curves of her body brushing against him as she worked. Her breasts bumped against his arm, sending a vibration through him that had nothing to do with pain.

Closing his eyes, he fought to redirect his thoughts. They had a long journey ahead, and he couldn’t afford to let anything cloud his judgment. Their survival depended on it.

She used small scissors to cut the fabric wider. “Just making the hole bigger so I can clean the wound.” She dabbed antiseptic onto a cotton ball and applied it to his injury.

Abe sucked air through his teeth as the antiseptic hit raw flesh, lighting every nerve on fire.

“Sorry.” She paused, concern in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yes.” He cricked his neck, sweat popping on his forehead. “Continue.”

“Tell me about your teammates.” She rocked back on her heels. “The ones you lost.”

He met her open gaze. “There’s not a lot?—”

“Abe.” Her tone was gentle, but insistent.

“You calling the shots now?”

One feminine shoulder shrugged and her mouth tilted in a half-smile. “I can be as bossy as the best of them.”

But his mind wasn’t on her words. It had shifted to his fallen brothers—Jackson and Roe. Irreplaceable, and now gone. The unfairness of it gnawed at him, but he shoved it down like he always did.

“Jackson was our demolitions expert.” His mouth tasted bitter. “Big guy, built like a tank, but with the hands of a surgeon. Could disarm the nastiest bombs without breaking a sweat. And that laugh...” Abe let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “It could turn around a bad day, no matter how deep in shit we were. He had a wife, two little girls. All he talked about was taking them fishing when we got back.”

Fuck.

Freya worked methodically, cleaning his wound. He hardly felt the sting anymore.

“Roe was our comms guy. Quiet, but sharp. The kind of guy who could rebuild a radio in the dark under fire. Spoke five languages like it was nothing. He was engaged. His fiancée was a nurse. They were supposed to get married a month after we rotated out.” His voice hardened. “Didn’t make it that far.”

His breath faltered, but he controlled it. Combat had taught him to compartmentalize.

“It was—” Liquid fire engulfed his arm. “Fuck, Freya, what?—”

She held a bloody bullet aloft in the grip of silver tweezers, her face serious and pale. “Less of a graze, more of an actual bullet.”

He swallowed, cold sweat pricking his hot skin. “Jeez. Freya.” The world swam, tilting dangerously.

She caught him before he toppled over. “Lie down for a second.”

He hit the ground with a thud, grateful for the feel of solid dirt beneath him. Ground never felt so damn good. He stared up at the sky, watching clouds drift by. Oblivious.Lucky bastards.

Freya worked fast, pressing a dressing against his arm.

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