For a few brutal minutes, we moved like we had trained together for years. His power was force, command, and devastating strength. Mine was precision, timing, and refusal. He broke openings. I used them. I turned enemies toward him. He ended them. A rogue slipped past his left. I cut it down before it reached his blind spot.
His eyes met mine once through the rain.
No words.
No time.
But something passed between us.
Not love.
Respect under fire.
That was its own kind of dangerous.
A scream rose from the ridge path.
Marcus.
My head snapped toward the bunker.
One rogue had broken from the side, smaller and faster than the rest, scrambling along the wall above the sealed bunker entrance. Marcus was fighting two below and had not seen it.
The rogue dropped toward the bunker vent.
