Page 96 of The Scout

No Will.

Nous.

Only a cold, empty world without them.

And I didn’t want to live in that world.

“I’m done!” I shouted. “Done with this world. Just let me go with them. Please!”

Heaving sobs overtook me. I hadlost?—

The sound of an engine roared through the fog.

My head snapped up.

Through the smoke, through the thick haze rolling off the water, a boat surged toward the shore, slicing through the waves like a ghost appearing from the abyss. The sight of it knocked the breath from my lungs.

There were other boats out there—rescue vessels, Dominion Hall’s teams cutting through the waves, responding to the chaos. But this one—this one—was different.

It wasn’t moving like the others, weaving through the wreckage, searching, scanning. This boat had apurpose. A single, unrelenting destination. It was coming straight for shore, slicing through the water with the kind of singular focus that set my pulse hammering.

It wasn’t aimless. It wasn’t searching.

It was returning.

My breath caught, my chest tightening so fast it was painful.

Because there was only one reason a boat would be heading straight for land like that.

It was bringing someoneback.

A body stood at the bow, gripping the railing. Tall, broad-shouldered, shirt torn, blood streaking his face?—

Will.

His voice cut through the chaos, raw and exasperated. “Itoldyou not to come looking for me.”

A choked gasp caught in my throat. I barely registered my own body moving. One second, I was being restrained, and the next, I had broken free and was scrambling toward the water, pushing through the surf as the boat ground into the shallows.

Will jumped down first, his boots sinking into the wet sand, his battered face twisting into something between relief and frustration as I slammed into him.

His arms locked around me, strong and unyielding, his breath ragged against my hair. I didn’t care that he smelled like smoke and seawater, didn’t care that my tears were wetting his ruined shirt. I only clung to him, my hands fisting the fabric at his back, my chest shaking with silent sobs.

“You asshole,” I choked out. “You absolute asshole.”

His chest rumbled with something like a broken laugh, but his grip on me only tightened. “Yeah,” he muttered, pressing a rough, unsteady kiss to my hair. “I know.”

I didn’t let go. Not yet.

Not until heavy footsteps crunched against the shore.

Not until I felt the shift in the air, the gravitational pull.

Ryker.

I turned just as he reached us, and then I was in his arms.

His body was solid, burning hot even through the dampness of his clothes. His chest rose and fell against mine, every breath deep, controlled, like he was still coming down from war. His fingers slid into my hair, tilting my face up, forcing me to meet his gaze.

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