Page 21 of Cyclone

Another crack of thunder rattled the walls. In the brief flash of lightning, I caught a glimpse out the grimy window—shadows slipping between trees, far too methodical to be casual hikers.

Blackdawn, those bastards never stop.

I grabbed my pack and checked my weapon with quick, practiced motions. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, but my hands were steady.

Cyclone moved back to me, his voice low and sure. “Out the rear. There’s a ravine. If we make it across, we can lose them in the forest.”

“How many?” I asked.

“Enough.”

I didn’t ask for more. I trusted him. Funny how fast that had happened.

Tag cracked the door open just enough to peer out. “Clear for now,” he muttered.

River adjusted the strap of his rifle. “They’ll hit the front first. Standard sweep.”

Cyclone looked at me. “You ready?”

I met his eyes, felt the old steel slide back into place inside me.

“Let’s go.”

The door creaked open wider, and we slipped into the storm, swallowed whole by the night.

The rain hit like needles,soaking me to the bone in seconds. Mud sucked at my boots, and every step was a battle not to go sprawling.

Cyclone led, sure-footed even on the treacherous ground. I kept pace, adrenaline sharpening my senses.

Behind us, faint shouts cut through the roar of the storm. They’d found the cabin. It wouldn’t take long for them to track our trail.

“The Ravine is close,” Cyclone called over his shoulder.

Lightning split the sky, illuminating a gaping chasm ahead, the narrow footbridge barely more than a few rotting planks and fraying rope.

“That’s the plan?” I shouted.

“You got a better one?”

I gritted my teeth and followed.

The bridge swayed wildly in the wind. One wrong step and I’d be swallowed by darkness. But behind us came the sharp crack of gunfire—close.

No choice.

Cyclone went first, moving fast but carefully. I gripped the rope rails, forcing myself onto the bridge.

Halfway across, a shot rang out—too close—and splinters of wood exploded near my hand.

“Move!” Cyclone shouted.

I ran, the bridge swinging violently beneath me. Another shot. Another. The far side loomed closer.

Cyclone grabbed my arm the second I lunged off the bridge, hauling me onto solid ground. Tag and River weren’t far behind.

“Cut it!” Cyclone shouted.

River didn’t hesitate. He slashed the rope with a wicked-looking blade. The bridge ripped free with a groan and crashed into the ravine below, taking our pursuers’ easy path with it.

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