Page 74 of Carter
She nodded, quick and steady. Trust, not hesitation.
I turned back to the fight, my finger steady on the trigger, my body burning with one vow:
I’d spill every drop of Redwood blood before I let them touch her again.
116
Carter
The forest erupted in chaos—shouts, gunfire, branches snapping under boots. Redwood pressed hard, their formation tightening as they tried to flank us.
“Left!” River’s command cut through the roar.
I pivoted, sighting down my scope. Two men broke from cover, rifles raised. I squeezed the trigger—one went down, the other staggered, clutching his side before Cyclone finished him with a clean shot.
The recoil jolted my shoulder, but I didn’t slow. Couldn’t. Every second counted.
Behind me, Harper stayed low, close enough I could feel her presence even in the smoke and gunpowder. I wanted to turn, to check her, to make sure fear wasn’t eating her alive—but I couldn’t afford the distraction. Redwood’s line was pressing, and if we faltered even once, we’d be buried.
A burst of fire cracked the bark inches from my head. I ducked hard, teeth clenched, ears ringing. Gideon swore, returning fire in a sharp, precise volley.
“Four left!” Cyclone barked.
Four. Manageable. We’d fought worse. But my musclesscreamed, my lungs burned, and the weight of knowing Harper was right there—that was the heaviest burden of all.
I reloaded fast, the metallic click loud in the lull of shifting fire. My jaw tightened. Redwood thought fear would break us. Thought she was my weakness.
They were wrong.
I rose from cover, fired three rounds in controlled bursts. Two men dropped, the last two retreating deeper into the treeline. The forest fell quieter, smoke curling through the gaps where sunlight pierced.
For a moment, the silence held.
Then River’s voice: calm, sharp. “Clear—for now.”
I exhaled, lowering my rifle, every muscle trembling with the aftershock. My first glance wasn’t to the bodies or the treeline. It was to Harper.
She met my eyes, pale but steady, her chest heaving. And in that look, I felt it—she wasn’t breaking. Neither of us were.
Not today.
117
Harper
The forest went quiet too fast. The gunfire stopped, the shouting cut off, and the silence that followed pressed heavily against my ears.
My chest heaved, lungs burning from smoke and fear, my knees still buried in the damp dirt where Carter had shoved me down. My fingers trembled, clenching in the earth as if I could hold myself steady by force alone.
Bodies lay scattered between the trees, dark shapes half-hidden in the fog. The sight turned my stomach, but I forced myself not to look away. This was the reality Carter lived in—the one I had stepped into when I saidtogether.
My eyes found him instantly. He was already scanning the treeline, rifle steady, sweat and blood streaking his face. Every line of him screamed exhaustion, but his gaze never wavered. He looked back at me then, just for a second, and something inside me eased.
Because he hadn’t just fought for me—he’d foughtwithme. And I’d stayed. I hadn’t run.
The fear was still there, sharp and raw, but it wasn’t theonly thing anymore. Strength curled in my chest, fragile but real, growing in the shadow of his steady presence.
I pushed to my feet, legs shaky, brushing dirt from my palms. Carter moved toward me, his eyes searching, his hand reaching for mine. The warmth of his grip steadied me more than anything else.
