Page 92 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
Her sneaker slides an inch on the rain-slicked surface.
"Female subject being escorted to a vehicle," Jax reports. "She appears disoriented. Possible sedation."
My attention divides through the scope, noting every detail while part of my mind stays locked on Vanessa's location. This split concentration grates against my training, like grit contaminating a finely tuned instrument.
"Vanessa. Now." My fingers tighten around my rifle.
She huffs but doesn't retreat. "I've almost isolated the... shit!"
Lightning cracks across the sky, temporarily whiting out my vision. In that same instant, her equipment slips from her rain-soaked fingers. She lunges forward, too far forward, reaching for the falling device.
My body moves before my mind processes the action. The rifle drops from my hands as I launch toward her, calculating distances and trajectories even as my chest tightens with something that feels dangerously close to fear.
I catch her waist, my fingers digging into her rain-soaked jacket. One swift yank and she crashes back against my chest, her back colliding with my sternum. The laptop tumbles from her hands, clattering across the concrete rooftop before skidding under the tarp.
Six inches. She was six fucking inches from the edge.
Rain pounds against us, cold water streaming down my face, into my collar. My heart hammers against her back, an unfamiliar rhythm that betrays everything I've trained myself to control.
"What the hell?" Vanessa gasps, struggling against my grip. Her body twists, but I lock my arms around her, completely stopping her movement.
"Position compromised? Status report!" Jax's voice snaps through the comms, tight with worry.
I don't answer. Can't answer. My jaw clenches so tight my molars might crack.
Vanessa's wet hair plasters against my cheek as she turns her head. "Let go! I was capturing the transmission pattern when they—"
"Risk assessment failed." Ice forms around each word as I speak, the sounds measured and exact despite the hurricane tearing through my chest. "Mission compromised."
"But the data—"
"Is worthless if you're dead." My hands clamp harder around her arms, her heartbeat racing under my fingertips.
The rain intensifies, sheeting down in silver curtains that distort the cityscape. Water soaks through my tactical gear, through her sweatshirt, creating a shared coldness between us that contradicts the heat of my fury.
"I wasn't going to fall." Her voice holds that stubborn edge I recognize. "I know what I'm doing."
Lightning flashes again, illuminating the six-story drop she nearly took. My stomach twists with an unfamiliar sensation.
"Pack up. Now." I release her and move toward my rifle. "We're done."
"Asher, we can't just—"
"Non-negotiable." I disassemble the rifle, each piece slotting into the waterproof case. "Three minutes to clear position."
Jax's voice cuts through again. "Frost, report status."
"We need exfil. Weather compromised surveillance." I keep my eyes on Vanessa as she retrieves her laptop, checking for damage. "Equipment at risk."
The truth sits in my throat, unspoken. Not equipment. Her. She's the risk I can't quantify, the variable I can't control. The fear that shot through me when she slipped. It wasn't tactical. It was something deeper. Uncontrolled.
I lurch toward the rooftop access door, shoving it open with more force than necessary. The sudden shelter from the rain does nothing to cool the rage burning beneath my skin.
"Comms check," I growl into my mic. "Nitro, maintain position. We're moving to extraction point alpha."
"Copy that," Jax responds. "What happened up—"
I cut the connection with a sharp click, focusing on the narrow concrete stairwell ahead. Emergency lights cast sickly yellow pools every ten feet, creating shadowed blind spots between.
