Page 7 of Cyclone

But this?

This felt personal. I picked her up and let her body relax against mine as I carried her through the stinking jungle.

Jude’s skin was clammy. Her breath ghosted my neck in uneven bursts. Every few minutes she stirred—sometimes mumbling, sometimes squeezing her hand around my shoulder strap like she was trying to ground herself.

“Almost there,” I whispered. “You just hang on, alright?”

She didn’t answer.

Until—

“I lied,” she murmured.

I slowed. “What?”

She shifted against me, barely conscious. “I lied. I’m not a nun.”

My boots stopped cold in the mud.

“What did you say?” I asked, but her head had already lolled to the side, out cold again.

I glanced at Faron, who raised his eyebrows. “Well. That explains the mouth,” He said.

We kept moving. But I couldn’t stop hearing her voice.

I’m not a nun.

Of course, she wasn’t.

She moved too well. Thought too fast. Reacted like someone trained—not sheltered in a convent. But still… hearing her sayit, even in a haze of venom and fever, sent a jolt straight to my chest.

Why the hell had she lied?

Why had she been with the other nuns in the first place?

And why did it bother me so damn much?

The chopper came in hot—blades slicing the air like salvation.

Medics jumped out before the skids touched ground. I held Jude tightly as I rushed toward them, yelling above the roar.

“Spider bite. She's fading fast. No antivenom. She’s dehydrated, fevered, but strong.”

They took her from my arms, already hooking her up to fluids. I watched, frozen, as they worked over her. Oxygen. IVs. Cooling compresses. Voices barked orders I could barely hear.

Then—her hand reached blindly.

“Cyclone,” she rasped.

I was at her side in a heartbeat.

“I’m here.”

She turned her head slowly, eyes barely open. “Don’t let them take me back. Please.”

“Take you where?”

Her fingers gripped mine. “Not… back to them.”

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