Wings of the Walker - CoraLee June Page 0,218

I could identify with that.

I stroked Payne’s hair, the blond locks so similar to Josiah’s that my heart broke.

“I told her I wasn’t leaving without you,” Kemper mumbled.

We all sat there for a moment, digesting everything that had happened. Cyler, Maverick, Jacob, and a dying Jules were stuck in Ethros. Dominique saved me, to save her son. We were in the deadlands, with no way to communicate with them. And Cavil was a madman likely to now take complete control of the empire .

“Are you going to save Momma?” Payne finally asked. I looked down and saw his lip tremble. I knew better than to make promises I couldn’t keep. The reality of our situation was too intense for a simple yes or no.

“I’ll try.”

Revenge of the Walker

Chapter One

"We can't keep doing this, Ashleigh," Huxley said with a groan. I trailed my eyes down his muscular chest as sweat dripped down his abs. "It's not fair to the others. You can't ignore them all day then spend your nights with me."

There was a small part of me that felt guilty, but I focused on the pain of my sore muscles, dulling my thoughts. I knew that sneaking off to work out my frustrations with Hux wasn't a permanent fix. But there was something freeing about giving in to my anger, if only for a couple hours. My nights with him helped me forget the sadness I felt whenever I thought about Cyler, Maverick, and Jacob. This was the only reprieve I had.

Tonight, at the camp meeting, a team of scouts informed us that Dormas was now completely overrun with Ethros troops. Dormas was the last bit of hope I'd been clinging to. It was my piece of paradise, now tainted by Cavil's reign. Was nothing sacred?

My arms shook with exhaustion and adrenaline. Six hours of fighting with Huxley wasn't enough to calm my nerves. I felt murderous. Channeling my anger into Huxley was the only thing keeping me sane. So, if I had to be selfish about our nights together—so be it.

"Are you going to keep talking? Or are you going to fight?" I challenged, keeping my voice even despite the exhaustion I felt.

I raised my fists up to a ready position, my curled hand blocking my jaw but giving me a clear view of Hux. It took a while to get used to the fighter's stance. Two weeks to get the shape of my fist down. Three weeks to remember to protect my face. Four weeks to build up my strength so my punches actually meant something.

It did, however, only take a day to learn how to kick Huxley in the balls. That lesson was almost instinctual.

I stared at Huxley's expression, expecting to see his plump lip quirk up like it usually did when I got like this. He liked to see the fight in me. He liked to push my buttons and make me work for the hit. It made my pulse thump to see his bright eyes hooded with desire as I landed punch after punch. But tonight, he gave me a grimace.

"When you first asked me to help you, I thought it meant that you were finally working through your grief—"

"Don't say grief. Grief is for people who’ve lost something. They're not lost," I choked out with a jab that connected with his side. He didn't flinch, though I wanted to shake my fist out. Technically, I was grieving. Losing Josiah had affected me in ways I still couldn't come to terms with. I'd expected it, almost. I'd prepared myself for his loss.

But what I hadn't expected was for him to die saving me. I hadn't expected the guilt. I hadn't expected to doubt everything I knew. Most of my free time was spent analyzing what happened. I had gone from falling in love with the boy I knew to hating the man he'd become, then grieving the stranger that died for me.

"You have lost something," Huxley said, interrupting my thoughts. He wasn't wrong. I’d lost Cyler, Maverick, Jacob, and Jules. Although the news reports had briefly mentioned Cyler, there was no news on Jacob. Since he and Patrick separated in Ethros, we’d been staring down the dark pit of the unknown, and it infuriated me.

"I entertained these nights together because I thought it would help, but you’re not..."

"What? I’m not what, Huxley?"

"You’re not healing." He dropped his hands to his side. I didn't want to see his defeated stance. Why did he have to make