Page 136 of Wilde and Deadly

Nothing.

“Rowan, do you copy?”

Silence.

A cold weight settled in his chest and wound around his lungs, thick and suffocating. “Weston. Sabin. Somebody fucking answer me!”

Static.

Another gunshot.

Louder. Closer.

Behind him, something shifted. Not movement. Not footsteps. A change in the air itself, and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. He spun, half-raising his weapon, expecting to see a threat, but it was just Sullivan. He wasn’t staring at the water anymore. The grief was gone. The rage was sealed shut. His breathing had steadied, his stance locked. His hands, still gripping his rifle, were now perfectly still.

When he lifted his head and met Davey’s gaze, his eyes were cold.

Not blank.

Not broken.

Just ice fucking cold.

A man who had done what needed to be done and had nothing left.

A soldier who knew he still had a job to do.

Sullivan had snapped back because their team was in danger, and that was what they were trained to do no matter the loss, no matter the cost. They kept moving. Kept fighting.

Saved who they could.

But could they save Rowan?

Jesus.

He needed to move.Now.But his body wouldn’t obey. His boots seemed to weigh a thousand pounds each. His lungs stuttered, and his vision blurred at the edges.

Heat. Shrapnel. Fire. The blistering shockwave hit like a fist to the chest, tearing the air from his lungs. The Humvee rocking from the blast—no, not rocking—flipping. His body wrenched sideways, everything tilting, spinning, weightless for a breathless second before metal screamed and the roof slammed into the sand.

His ears rang. Too loud. Too sharp. The sound of war pressed into his skull, but beneath it—beneath the chaos—was something worse.

Silence.

Louder than the explosion. Louder than anything.

Because silence meant someone wasn’t screaming anymore.

Silence meant someone hadn’t made it.

And Rowan was silent.

His chest seized. His lungs locked.

Oh, fuck, no.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Steady. Firm. Grounding. He blinked and focused on Sullivan’s hard, cold eyes.

“We gotta move, boss.” Despite the ice in his eyes, his voice was shockingly gentle. “We gotta go save your woman.”

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