“Down!” Adrian shouted just a beat before the first shot snapped through the morning, and I dropped hard onto the gravel.
The impact burned the breath out of me.
A bullet sparked off the wreck of the car—right where I’d just been standing.
Everything broke loose after that.
Dorian fired back into the tree line, dragging Lucian behind cover.
Sal dove in fast, gun already out, yelling something at Adrian that I couldn’t catch—I could barely hear anything above the ringing in my ears.
Adrian threw himself over me, pressing me down behind the twisted bumper.
A second shot pinged off metal—way too close for comfort.
“How many?” Adrian’s voice cut through the noise, steady in that way people only are when they’re used to chaos.
“Can’t tell,” Sal barked from the far side, squinting through the morning light.
“At least one, maybe more—high ground, tree line.” Another shot cracked.
This one didn’t miss.
Dorian screamed—sharp, pain slicing through the air—right as Lucian shouted something, his voice burning with panic and fury.
“We can’t stay here,” Adrian hissed into my ear.
“They’ve got the angle.
We move—now—while they’re reloading.” “Where?” My voice shook, the words twisting up with panic.
“There.” Adrian nodded at a shallow ditch that ran by the edge of the trees.
Not much cover, but better than nothing if we could make it.
Another shot whipped in before he could count it down.
No metal this time.
I felt Adrian tense—my back pressed to the ground, his body stiff and heavy above me.
Then he dropped more weight on me, deliberate, protective—and warmth pooled against my shoulder.
Blood.
“Adrian—” “I’m fine,” he bit out, jaw tight.
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
“Just a graze.
Move when I tell you.” “You’re bleeding—” “Wren.” His eyes clamped onto mine—dark, determined, hurting.
“Trust me.
Ten seconds.
Can you do that?” I nodded.
Couldn’t get a word out.
“Now!” We scrambled, arms locked, crawling half on our bellies for the ditch.
Gravel dug into my hands, shots slicing the air just above us.
Then Sal’s voice cut through it all, loud and almost wild.
“Got him!” A scream answered him, echoing from the trees—then something crashed through the underbrush and silenced.
The world went perfectly still for a moment.
No one moved, all of us listening hard, waiting, just in case someone else out there was finding a bead on us.
The standoff stretched, and then Sal finally stood, gun sweeping the trees, his voice wary.
“Clear,” he called out, though he didn’t sound sure and neither was I.
I went straight to Adrian, my hands moving automatically to the wound at his shoulder—blood, slick and hot, way too close to where my head had been just moments before.
Pack training took over.
The graze looked ugly but not deep.
I pressed down, trying to slow the bleeding.
“Told you,” Adrian said, a ragged breath escaping, but he wouldn’t look away from me.
“It’s nothing.” “You took that bullet for me.” His answer didn’t hesitate.
“Yeah.
And I’d do it again.” He didn’t say it for effect.
No big declarations—just certainty, quiet and grounded, like this was a decision he’d made a long time ago, somewhere between all our past disasters.
Across the road, Lucian was already patching Dorian—hand pressed tight to his side, fury and worry crashing on his face.
I knew that look; it had been on my face three seconds ago.
“He’ll live,” Lucian called, glancing over at us.
“But we need to move.
If there was one shooter, there’ll be more.
Dorian needs a real doctor.” “Agreed,” Adrian said, already getting up, even while I tried to hold him down.
He kept his injured arm close but moved with the same focus he always did, calculating and sharp.
“Sal, can you get the car started?” “Maybe.
I can get us out, not much further.” “Then we regroup and get out of here.” He scanned the rest of us—Lucian, Sal, Dorian, then me—his eyes heavy with something I couldn’t quite read.
Lucian’s jaw clenched—thinking, weighing options.
“There’s a safehouse.
Sovereignty-protected.
Wardings you haven’t seen.
We get there, we’re off the grid.
I know the way.” Adrian looked at me—just a brief flick of his eyes, a silent question.
After all this time, after everything, did I trust Lucian enough to follow?
I nodded, almost surprising myself.
“Okay,” I said.
“Take us there.” We loaded Dorian into the battered car.
The sun finally pulled itself over the trees, throwing gold light on wreckage and blood—gentle, too gentle for what had just happened.
I caught Adrian watching me, his guard slipping just for a moment, pain and something raw written clear on his face.
I leaned in, voice low.
“Back at the estate.
Why does it always end up being you putting yourself between me and this mess, every time?” He didn’t blink.
“Because sometime these last five days,” Adrian said quietly, “I stopped measuring what you’re worth, and just needed you to survive.
I can’t explain it better than that.” The car rumbled under us—Sal coaxed it to life, and we followed Lucian’s battered ride into the trees, rolling toward who-knows-what kind of safety.
I held onto Adrian’s words, as much as I held onto the door handle, hanging tight to the one honest thing in a morning that had tried, twice now, to kill me before I had the chance to figure out why surviving mattered.