Page 67 of Forged in Fire
Not panicking. Good.
“We’re getting you out of here,” I tell her, having to shout over the noise.
She shakes her head, her mouth moving. I can’t hear her words, but I read her lips: “Not without you.”
Something cold settles in my chest. The situation is crystal clear. Ten Guild operatives, probably more. Elevated positions. Overlapping fields of fire. One helicopter with limited evasive capability. Four people who need safety.
The math is simple. Brutal. Unavoidable.
Elena appears at my shoulder, moving closer under the cover of the rotor wash. “We need to go! Now!”
I grab Iris by the shoulders, force her to look at me. Her eyes are fierce with denial.
She needs to understand.
“They’ll keep coming,” I tell her, voice carrying just enough to reach her ears. “The Guild won’t stop. Someone has to buy time.”
Understanding dawns in her expression. Followed immediately by refusal. She grabs my jacket, her grip surprisingly strong.
“No,” she says. This time, I hear her clearly despite the noise. “We go together or not at all.”
Elena looks between us, picking up the tension.
Gunfire erupts from a new position. Closer. The Guild operatives are advancing, tightening the noose. It’s only minutes before they have the helicopter bracketed from all sides.
Luke appears beside Elena in a low crouch. “Perimeter’s collapsing. We’re out of time.”
Elena’s ward flickers, magical energy depleting under the sustained assault. She’s already reaching for her own power, preparing stronger magic, but it’ll take time they don’t have.
I look at Iris one more time. Memorize the fierce determination in her eyes. The stubborn set of her jaw. The way her hair catches the wind.
Then I make the only choice that matters.
Before she can react, before she can fight me, I hook my arms under hers and lift her bodily toward the helicopter’s open door. She’s light but strong, struggling against my grip.
“Riven, no!” The words tear out of her throat like something vital being ripped away. “Don’t you dare—”
“Save your brother,” I tell her, pushing her up into Elena’s waiting hands. “I’ll find you.”
Elena and Luke grab her, hauling her into the cabin despite her desperate attempts to reach back for me. Her eyes lock with mine through the chaos, communication passing between us that has nothing to do with words.
I look at Elena. “Keep her safe.”
Then I’m moving. Sprinting away from the helicopter toward the heaviest concentration of muzzle flashes. Drawing their fire. Giving the pilot clear space to lift off.
Heat builds in my chest—dragon fire responding to combat adrenaline. I let it flow through my weapon, superheating rounds as they leave the barrel. Bullets whine past my head, chunking stone from ancient walls. I return fire, not aiming to kill but to keep heads down. To make them focus on me instead of the helicopter rising behind me.
The Glock kicks. Brass scatters across worn stone. The world narrows to immediate priorities—cover, movement, targets. Skills that have kept me alive for decades take over.
My enhanced perception tracks the helicopter rising quickly, the growing distance between rotors and stone. The moment when physics and firepower join to make Iris safe.
A bullet burns across my shoulder, tearing fabric and scouring flesh. Another shatters stone near my head. Guild operativesclose in, their coordinated advance compressing my available cover.
I duck behind a fallen column, eject an empty magazine, and slam home a fresh one. Through gaps in the stone, I see dark figures moving toward me. Professional. Relentless.
They have me surrounded.
The helicopter’s turbine whine grows fainter as it gains altitude. Part of me wants to look up. To catch one last glimpse of the woman who managed to crack something inside me I thought was permanently sealed. But looking up would mean death.
