Page 6 of Cyclone

I tightened my grip. “You’re going to be fine.”

She sighed, resting her cheek against my shoulder. “You always this charming when you’re scared?”

I didn’t answer.

Because yeah—I was scared.

And I hadn’t been scared like this since my last deployment, when I thought we lost Faron in a cave-in and I couldn’t breathe until I saw him alive.

That’s what this felt like.

Like I couldn’t breathe unless the nun was okay.

An HourLater

Her breathing slowed. I had to throw her over my shoulder because she could no longer hold her arms around my neck.

She was sweating. Delirious. Slurring her words.

Faron was ahead, hacking through vines like a man possessed. The other nuns said nothing except to mumble a prayer for Sister Jude.

“Where’s the damn team?” I muttered into my radio. “We need the med teamnow.”

“We’re ten clicks out,” came the reply.

Not fast enough.

I dropped to my knees, laying her down gently. “Hey,” I whispered, tapping her cheek. “Stay with me. Come on, smart mouth. Say something annoying.”

She blinked up at me, unfocused. “You… have really weird eyebrows.”

I let out a rough laugh, blinking fast. “There she is.”

Then her eyes rolled back.

“Jude.”

No response.

I looked at Faron. “We can’t wait. We move now.”

“I’ll carry her,” he said.

“No,” I growled. “I’ve got her.”

And I did.

Because somehow, between the teasing, the jungle, and the almost kiss, she’d become something more, maybe a friend, I didn’t want to lose.

Someone I wasn’t ready to lose. Even if she was a nun, I couldn’t help how I felt.

Not now.

Not ever.

Cyclone

I’d carrieda hundred wounded men out of combat zones. Some had made it. Some hadn’t.

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