Page 40 of Forged in Fire
Glass fragments pepper the room like shrapnel. A sniper round punches through the space she occupied two seconds prior, embeds in the far wall with a dull thunk.
“Move. Now.”
She’s rolling before the echo fades. Left, finding cover behind the couch.
Good instincts.
I reach for her again.
“Stay with me.” I haul her upright. No time for explanations. Only survival.
Her heat burns through my jacket. The electric sensation races up my arm, settles in my chest. I should release contact, focus on the immediate priorities.
Instead, I pull her closer.
“Back exit. Run.”
Automatic weapons fire erupts outside. Rounds chew through the cabin walls and splinters rain down around us as we navigate between furniture. She stays low, follows my lead without question.
Thank fuck.
The hidden exit is concealed behind a false kitchen panel. Thank God the cabin’s rigged for shit like this. I trigger the release mechanism. Cold mountain air rushes in, carrying the scent of pine needles and cordite.
“Where does this lead?”
“Away from here.”
More rounds penetrate the main room. Systematic. Thorough. They’re not planning to take prisoners.
She slips through the opening first. I follow, sealing the panel behind us. The passage was carved from living rock—an escape route installed by someone who understood operational security.
We emerge a hundred feet from the cabin into dense forest cover. Behind us, muzzle flashes strobe through the windows like deadly lightning. The Guild cleanup crew is thorough. And motivated.
But that’s okay, because so am I. Moving quickly, I find a small cluster of shrubs and drop down behind them, pulling her with me. I shoulder my rifle, using a forked branch to stabilize the barrel as I stare down the sights. It doesn’t take me long to get into position. I can probably pick off a couple of them and even out the playing field.
And then I see them. The giant, unmistakable form of Garrus. Flanked by Luther.
Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Why? Why would she send them after me? Of everyone in the Guild, they’re probably the closest to friends I have. Family.
Which is exactly why she’d do it.
I can’t kill them. She knows I can’t.
Lowering my weapon, I silently shuffle backward.
“What are you doing?” Iris whispers urgently.
“Change of plan. This way.” I grip her wrist and haul us both up, pull her deeper into the pines, away from the lights now sweeping the cabin’s surroundings.
She jerks against my hold. Not fighting exactly, but testing. Calculating.
Her skin burns under my fingers. Hot despite the mountain cold. The contact sends tingles up my arm. Dragon fire responding in ways I don’t fully understand.
“Bad idea,” I tell her as scales begin to ripple across her flesh. She’s planning to shift. “They’re equipped for aerial targets.”
“You mean…?” She glances toward the sound of gunfire.
