Page 43 of Ronan

“Out here, you are far more experienced than I am. Is there any place that you can think of where we would be safe?”

“Nowhere is safe,” he mutters, and the protective instincts inside me bristle.

“You are always safe with me.”

A snarky grin spreads across his mouth as I glance at him, my lip lifting as he gives my cheek a gentle tap. “Aww, is the big tough monster puffing his chest out? You going to show off those sharp little teefers?”

I tear my face away, rubbing my cheek. “You’re an ass.”

“Yeah,” he agrees with a sigh, and I can’t help my smile as he settles back into his seat. I like that he isn’t scared of me… that he can tease, and fight, and poke at me without a second thought.

After a few minutes of staring out the window into the darkness, he turns to me again. “Would the military return to a rebel camp after it’s been raided?”

I consider the question, a knot of unease tightening in my stomach at the thought of staying somewhere recently targeted. “Typically, no, but the drama surrounding this rebel group, and the sheer number of prisoners, make it too risky. One of them might inadvertently trigger a search party by mentioning something interesting in their camp. They’re desperate for a bargaining chip right now.”

“What about one that’s been empty longer?”

“How long are we talking?”

“Can’t say for sure. A few weeks ago, I passed an abandoned camp. Pretty good size, too. It didn’t look like anyone had lived there in a long time, but I didn’t go further than peeking inside the gates.” I glance at the gas gauge, dreading its move towards E. Our supplies will last us for several weeks, maybe more, but they’re useless if we’re forced to leave them behind.

“Where is this camp?” There’s a small range of distance I’d consider acceptable. It needs to be far enoughfrom base to avoid detection, but not so far that we’d run out of fuel before arriving.

We need to stop and regroup, that much is an indisputable fact.

Exhaustion has settled in my bones, a deep, gnawing fatigue, and my wounds are screaming in protest. My eyelids are lead weights, and I’m fighting to keep them open so I don’t drift off to sleep.

Only sheer willpower keeps me going, but Cameron doesn’t need to know that.

He thinks about my question for a stretch, and I bite back a smile as he counts on his fingers. “Um, okay, so it’s been probably two and a half weeks since I passed by, so… eighteen days? If I travel twelve to fifteen miles a day, account for pit stops to scavenge and rest…”

His fingers fly again, and I scratch my face to hide my grin behind my hand. When he turns to me with a giant smile, he looks so proud that it physically hurts my chest. “It’s around two hundred and fifty miles from the camp I was taken from.”

Relief relaxes my grip on the steering wheel, because that’s easily within the range of the gas we have. “You can find this camp again?”

“If you get me to where your people took me from… then yeah, I think so,” he says, chewing his lip and scratching his fingernails along his jeans. “I mean, I know the direction I came from, and I make it a point to notice landmarks.” Worry creeps over his face as he moves from scratching at his pants to picking at them, and he stares at his fingers as he frowns. “I’ve never had someone else relying on me for this…”

“Hey, there’s no reason to stress.” I reach over and put my hand over his, staring at the contrast between his tanned skin and the black leather of my glove. Even dressed in a casual t-shirt, I haven’t taken it off, and it’s not escaped my notice that he’s wearing his jacket on a hot night.

If this…thing… between us is ever going to go anywhere, we need to get over this fear of our marks.

“There is,” he insists, his other hand waving through the air. “There is literally every reason to stress. What if I can’t find it, and we run out of gas and are stranded in the middle of nowhere? You went through so much trouble to get these supplies… I mean, you pretty much beheaded a guy and then lit him up like a barbeque…” I cringe, recoiling at his blasé tone, although I suppose I should be thankful for his lack of fear.

“What if we lose everything because of me?” There it is—that insecurity he tries so hard to hide.

“Cameron,” I scold, twisting his hand and weaving our fingers together. “You’ve got this.”

“Why do you have so much faith in me?” His voice is small, eyes curious behind his glasses.

“Whydon’tyou? What reason have you ever given me to doubt you?” He stares at me for a long time, mind spinning, until he lets out a heavy breath and nods. “Say it. I want to hear you say you believe in yourself.” His expression scrunches into a scowl, but I only hike my brow at him and wait.

“Fuck, fine,” he mutters. “I’ve got this.” He pretends to be irritated, but his fingers wrap around mine, lips twitching as he tries not to smile. We fall into a peaceful silence as the road hums beneath us, dust zooming past in the beams of the headlights.

“What is the military doing, anyway?” he asks after a stretch. “Why did Bravis come after you?”

“Those are two very different questions. Bravis came after me because he couldn’t stand the fact that he didn’t know what was happening. His need for absolute control is what ended his life, but ultimately has nothing to do with the military’s plans.”

“Which are…?”

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