Page 35 of Owned In Misty Mountain

“You’re mine too,” she whispers.

I nod. “Yeah, baby. Yours.”

She leans in, and I kiss her like I’ve never kissed before.

With everything I am.

Sixteen

Shanay

My body gives out before my voice does.

The second I feel him—his arms, his chest, his breath—I stop fighting. I let go.

I remember being lifted.

Smoke and ash swirling around us.

His shirt pressed to my face.

His voice in my ear, rough and steady, saying, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”

The air hits colder outside. But he’s warm.

And I’m in his arms.

—-

Mike doesn’t walk—he storms.

Straight out of the wreckage with me held tight to his chest.

One arm under my knees, the other around my back, fingerssplayed wide like he’s afraid I’ll slip through his grip.

My cheek is pressed to his collarbone. His heart’s pounding so hard I can feel it against my jaw.

His shirt is soaked with sweat and smoke.

His jaw is locked tight, that scar above his brow smeared.

His eyes—when I glance up—are wild.

Terrified.

And still scanning for threats.

“Mike,” I whisper, voice raw.

He doesn’t look down.

Just tightens his grip and keeps moving.

—-

The EMTs meet us halfway.

“I’m not putting her down,” he growls when they try to take me.

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