Page 31 of Rusty's Command

And I’m so fucking angry, I’m going to rip your ear off with my teeth.

Bring it on, asshole!

She raised her hands slowly, spreading her fingers in mock surrender and forcing her body to shift into the self-defense stance that had been drilled into her over and over. The light grew brighter and closer, bringing with it the sound of boots on stone and—was that a whimper?

Pickle? Soda?

“Rusty?” she whispered with hope and terror clashing in her chest.

The beam of light swung directly into her face.

“Sienna!” Rusty’s voice cut through the darkness.

Her legs went to rubber as relief washed through her like a power surge. She stumbled forward, barely registering Soda’s excited bark as she slammed into Rusty’s chest. His arms came around her, holding her to his chest, strong and steady.

As she sucked in a massive breath, her composure shattered, and she burst into tears. Her body shook against his chest as a dozen emotions crashed through her at once.

Rusty hugged her tighter and his embrace was both achingly familiar and yet somehow different.

Her sobs echoed off the tunnel walls, raw and broken.

“Hey, it’s over now.” He held her tighter, one hand cradling the back of her neck as his chest rose and fell against her cheek in a rhythm that slowly began to calm her racing heart.

“I thought you . . . you—” She couldn’t get the words out.

Soda whined, pressing against their legs, picking up her distress.

She gripped Rusty tighter, needing to verify he was real, solid, and alive, and he winced slightly. She pulled back enough to see his face in the flashlight’s glow. Blood streaked his cheek, dark and accusing. “You’re hurt!”

“I’m fine. Are you okay?”

Her chin quivered as she nodded.

“Where’s Pickle?”

“I lost him.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she flicked them away.

“Shit.” He scanned the flashlight into the darkness ahead of them.

“He jumped from my arms and disappeared. I couldn’t see anything. I couldn’t find him. I?—”

“Hey, hey.” Rusty’s voice softened as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her skin. That simple touch—so gentle after all the violence—cracked something deep inside her.

“We’ll find him, Sienna. I promise he’ll be okay.”

She nodded against his chest, desperately wanting to believe him. Questions about the attackers, the gunshots, and their safety burned in her throat. But she couldn’t voice them. Not yet.

Not when this moment felt so fragile.

Instead, she held onto him, letting his strength anchor her. Something fundamental had shifted between them in this darkness, and years of uncertainty crumbled away like old stone.

For the first time since she’d found Paige’s lifeless body, hope flickered through her like a precious flame.

“Is Soda okay?” Her voice wavered, and she sucked in a steadying breath.

“She’s fine. She’s a tough girl.” Pride radiated in his voice. “Don’t worry. She’ll help us find Pickle. Her nose is better than any flashlight.”

“So what do we do now?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper.

---