Colt’s Point of View
Pain was the first thing I felt. Not the kind that screams, this one was quieter, meaner. A dull, sinking weight that spread through my limbs like concrete setting in my bones. I opened my eyes to a dark sky and the smell of smoke.
Then I remembered the knock. The pressure plate.
Krystal.
I sat up too fast. The world tilted, nausea punched me square in the gut, but I forced myself to stay conscious. The cottage porch was gone, blown into splinters and dust. I was lucky no, she was lucky I took the blast and not her.
The door was shut now. No signs of struggle, no blood. That meant they took her. Alive. I reached for my side, half-expecting my weapon to be gone, but it was still strapped to my thigh. Amateurs.
The trees whispered behind me. Pine needles crunched
