Krystal’s Point of View
The chopper thundered over the city, its blades slicing through the dark like a clock counting down. I sat slumped against the cold metal wall, Colt’s blood soaking through my shirt, seeping into my skin like guilt. His head rested on my lap, eyes fluttering open and closed with the rhythm of pain. The medic was shouting something, but it all blurred into the background. Everything was noise—except him.
“Hold on,” I whispered, pressing gauze against his wound. “You’re not dying tonight, Christian. I won’t let you.”
He didn’t answer, but his fingers twitched around mine.
Elias barked into the comms from the cockpit. “ETA five minutes. We’ve got hostiles rerouting from the south. Tell her to keep him conscious.”
“Already on it,” I snapped.
Colt’s lips parted. A
