Page 44 of Following Their Heart

“I can’t stand this.” I’m wringing my hands and watching over Grim’s shoulder as he tries another round of power-cycling. “We have no idea what’s happening up there. Are those birds on Raptor’s side? Are they dangerous? Is Raptor coming?” My hands make fists. “I hate not knowing!”

The equipment powers up, but nothing has changed. We’re completely cut off from the others. We might as well be on another planet.

Grim slams a fist on the table and curses in Ukrainian. “This is not my forte. I don’t know how to fix any of this.”

His frustration cuts through my growing unease. I wrap my arms around his neck and press myself against his back. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“It should be Scrap down here with you,” he says. His shoulders are rigid, and his Ukrainian accent is thick.

“I’m glad it’s you,” I say, and I press my cheek along his.

He leans into me and reaches up to squeeze my arm. “We should try to find something else to do. We will drive ourselves crazy trying to connect with the others.”

He’s probably right. But the thought of giving up feels like…well, giving up.

I shake my head. “No. I mean, yes, we’ll drive ourselves crazy, but I can’t see not trying.” I nudge him with my hip. “Take a break. I’ll give it a shot for a while.”

He wipes a hand down his face, looking weary. I hear the rasp of his hand over his day of beard growth. I know it’s hard for him being down here while the others are defending their turf.

“Da. Da.” He gets up and takes over pacing for me while I scoot into the chair.

We’re a pair of nervous wrecks, but it can’t be helped. We can’t turn off our caring.

I study the equipment and manuals, and I try some more power-cycling, which accomplishes nothing except eating up some time. All the while, anxiety builds in my chest. It’s like not knowing what’s happening up there makes my imagination come up with all kinds of terrible scenarios. What if Raptor detonated some kind of huge bomb, and that’s why nothing’s working? What if the others are all dead or bleeding out from catastrophic injuries?

“Druzhyna,easy. Take it easy.” Grim comes up behind me and wraps me in his arms, and I realize I’m crying.

“What if they’re hurt?” I say on a hiccup. “What if they need our help?”

“They are strong. All of them. They will be fine. The best thing we can do for them is remain here, safe. They are fighting this battle for you, my angel.”

I know he’s right, but I hate this uncertainty. I hate it so much.

“Come. Sit with me. Let’s try to think about something else.” He lifts me from the chair and carries me to the couch. When he sinks into the buttery-soft, cream-colored leather, I curl against his chest.

I’m waiting for Grim’s comfort to relax me, because I absolutely love being comforted by Grim. Of all the guys here, he has the most calming effect on me.

But this time, it’s not working. Worry has a grip on me, and it won’t let go. The tightness in my chest won’t ease up. In fact, it’s growing. It’s getting thicker and making it harder for me to breathe, like a persistent pneumonia.

I climb off Grim’s lap. I’m pacing again. The feeling in my chest swells up into my throat, and I’m nearly choked by a sense of urgency.

This isn’t normal anxiety. This is different. Maybe it’s…the Working. As soon as I have the thought, my sense of urgency doubles, as if in confirmation.

“Something’s wrong,” I say with confidence. I wheel on Grim. His face shows only sympathy for me, not the same level of worry storming inside of me. I go to him and grip his shoulders, filled with a need tomove. “Something’s. Wrong,” I insist. “Like, really wrong.”

I don’t know if it’s a gut instinct or the Working, but I have an unshakable feeling that I need to get to Scrap, specifically. The battle hinges on him, and he needs me. He needs me by his side. He needs to know how much I love him and that I’m rooting for him and that I believe in him.

But Grim won’t budge.

His wounded gaze proves he takes no pleasure in it, but he won’t be moved. His mission is to protect me, and he’ll do it at all costs.

“Grim.Please.I need to get out of here.Weneed to get out of here. The others need us. They’re losing.”

“You are merely worried for them, angel. They are strong. They are smart. They will be fine.”

“They are all those things. Yes. But they’re outnumbered. They’re under attack. Not just by men with weapons, but by Gifts. I don’t know what’s happening up there, but I know we’re losing. We have to go.”

I grab his hand and yank him off the couch. It’s not easy, because he’s a solid hunk of muscle, but I’m amped up, and he follows my lead. Towing him behind me, I go to the heavy, barred and latched door to the mudroom. “We have to go. Now.”

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