Page 68 of Brawler
That helplessness was more terrifying than the gunfire still ripping the jungle apart around them.
“God, no…please—” she sobbed, trying to hold him, trying to still his thrashing body.
Then rough hands seized her, jerking her back. She shrieked, kicked, fought, but more came, shadows of men with rifles, yanking her arms behind her, dragging her away from him.
“Flash!” she screamed, reaching for him as the jungle tilted, her nails raking the dirt.
But he lay motionless now, chest heaving shallow, eyes rolled back, the sound of that scream still ringing in her ears as she was torn from him.
They dragged her through the jungle, boots skidding over roots and rocks, her lungs burning with sobs she couldn’t bite back. Flash was hauled alongside, two men gripping him under the arms. His head lolled, mouth slack, every few steps she searched for life, but it was as if he was inert. Whatever had happened back there had ripped something vital out of him, and Emily’s stomach twisted with helpless terror.
The trees broke into a clearing.
A busy camp sprawled before her, teeming with activity. Men moved in sharp, purposeful lines, their rifles slung but ready, voices barking orders over the low growl of idling trucks. Canvas tents hunkered under the weight of the humid air, their flapsstirring like restless mouths. A cooking fire smoked acrid in the center, the scent of grease and sweat mingling until it turned her stomach.
Towering over it all, the prize. Hellfire missiles. Stacked in neat rows, their olive drab casings glinting dully beneath tarps. Loaded like cargo, ready for transport. The sight slammed into her chest like a physical blow.
This wasn’t chaos. This was commerce. Efficient. Calculated. Deadly.
Her mind painfully snapped back to the downed Marine chopper squatting in the dirt, its rotors shattered, tail sheared away. The cockpit was still intact, the windows cracked and clouded with soot.
Two men sat slumped in the seats, helmets tilted forward, uniforms stained dark with blood. No one had bothered to move them. No attempt to cover their bodies. Just left there like their lives had meant nothing.
Emily’s throat closed. She pressed a hand hard against her mouth, trying to keep the bile down. These weren’t warriors anymore, not even men. To the smugglers, they were nothing. Trash. Debris.
Her chest squeezed until it hurt. She thought of Brawler, of Flash now at their mercy, of the team still fighting somewhere in the trees. Any one of them could be left like that, stripped of humanity, forgotten in the dirt.
The cruelty of it carved a hollow ache in her gut,
They shoved her forward, and she stumbled hard. Her knees hit packed dirt, and she hated those men, understood evil. Then they forced her into a tent, the smell of sweat, blood, and damp canvas closing around her.
They callously let go of Flash. Emily lunged before she could think, arms wrapping around him, his weight dragging her down. She broke his fall with her body, grunting at the pain,but worth every bruise. “No, no, I’ve got you.” She cradled his head in her lap, brushing sweat-soaked hair from his clammy forehead. His skin was burning one second, icy the next. There was no movement, no life. She checked his pulse, her heart suspended until she felt the strong, steady beat.
Her throat tightened. “Please, God, hold on.” She didn’t even know if he could hear her.
When she tore her gaze up, she froze.
Six men lined the far side of the tent, their uniforms torn, faces bruised and bloody. Marines. Their backs were against the canvas, shoulders squared, eyes sharp despite the swelling and exhaustion. They were wounded, outnumbered, stripped of weapons, but the way they carried themselves told Emily one thing with bone-deep certainty: These were not men who gave up.
Their gazes locked on hers, steady. Measuring. As if she were an unexpected variable they now had to account for.
Relief hit so hard it left her dizzy. Marines. The men who rescued SEALs. Now she had allies.
Emily’s heart lurched. She pulled Flash closer, her arms tightening around him. Whatever nightmare had taken him, whatever danger they were in, she had every intention of getting them all out of this alive.
Somewhere out there, that savage wolf pack prowled, and they were coming for her and their teammate. No doubt about it.
Brawler wipedthe blood from his knife, scanning the clearing for movement.
Flash’s voice broke the quiet with an inhuman scream in the distance. It sent birds exploding into flight, monkeys screaming,the very jungle shaking. All the hair on Brawler’s body bristled, his blood froze, a chill ripping down his spine.
Every man froze where he stood. They’d all heard death cries, pain-filled cries, the broken sounds of men bleeding out. This wasn’t that. This was soul-deep, torn raw, a sonic human boom reverberating through the jungle, unnatural and shattering. Visceral. Final. A warrior’s agony twisted into something none of them had words for.
Then it hit him.Emily.She was gone.
Brawler’s chest clenched until he couldn’t breathe. His ears rang with the echo of the anguished sound, his gut urging him to move, to run, to find his brother and Emily before that scream was the last thing they ever heard from him.
Tex didn’t speak. He didn’t need to.
