Page 9 of Provoking Bryan

Bryan’s voice followed her. “Sara, wait?—”

She didn’t wait. She couldn’t.

The man was fast, but Sara was faster. She caught up to him near the back of the clinic, slamming into him before he could raise his weapon and fire at her. They hit the ground hard, the impact jarring, but she recovered first, pinning him with her knee and delivering a sharp blow to his temple.

His body went limp, but the victory was short-lived. A shadow loomed behind her, and she twisted just in time to see another attacker raising a knife.

Her hands scrambled for her weapon, but she wasn’t fast enough.

The sharp crack of a rifle shot split the air, and the man’s knees buckled as he collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Sara turned, her chest heaving, to see Bryan standing a few yards away, his rifle still raised, his eyes locked on hers.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his voice rough but steady.

She didn’t reply, couldn’t. Something shifted in that moment—something she wasn’t ready to name.

The aftermath was quiet, almost unsettlingly so. The attackers were neutralized, the clinic secured, but Sara’s mind was anything but calm. She stood by the perimeter, her arms crossed, watching as Bryan spoke with the others, organizing clean-up and checking on patients.

He was good at this. Too good.

When he finally approached her, his expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something that made her feel exposed in a way she hated.

“You could’ve gotten yourself killed,” he said without preamble.

“So could you. I had it under control,” she replied, her voice sharper than intended.

“Did you?” he challenged, stepping closer. “Because from where I was standing, you were about to lose that fight.”

She bristled. “I didn’t need you to save me.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his tone calm but unyielding. “But I did. And if you can’t accept that, you’re going to get yourself killed trying to prove something.”

The words hit harder than she expected, and she hated the way her stomach tightened, the way her carefully constructed facade wavered.

“What’s your point?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“My point,” Bryan said, his voice dropping lower, “is that you’re not invincible, Sara. And pretending you are doesn’t make you stronger. It makes you reckless.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words caught in her throat. He wasn’t wrong, and that realization cut deeper than any wound.

Bryan studied her for a long moment, his gaze searching hers before she turned and began to walk away. “Sara,” he called.

She waved her hand over her head and kept walking. She needed distance. She listened carefully and was grateful when she didn’t hear him following.

Later, in the privacy of her tent, Sara stared at her phone, her thumb hovering over Miley’s contact. She hadn’t called her in months, but tonight, she needed answers.

The phone rang twice before Miley picked up.

“Sara,” Miley said, her tone warm but curious. “What’s going on?”

Sara hesitated, then exhaled slowly. “I need to ask you about Bryan Mena.”

Miley’s voice shifted, a note of intrigue slipping in. “Bryan? What about him?”

“What do you know about him?” Sara asked, her voice quieter now. “And…how does someone like you—someone in our world—deal with someone who pushes back?”

Miley was silent for a moment, then she laughed softly. “Ah, I see. He’s getting under your skin, isn’t he?”

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