Definitely not a person Knox wanted to see right now.
“It’s not the end of the world—hey!” Rafe yelped and shot Gray a glare as the man dug another piece of buckshot from his skin. “Be gentle with my fine ass, would you?”
Gray rolled his eyes and reached for the anesthetic spray. “I’ve watched you shrug off worse. Why are you being such a baby about this?”
“Because I’m not used to being shot by ladies I’ve already laid my best smile on.” He grimaced. “As I was about to say, it’s not ideal, but we have another month or two on the clock now, and Luna can just tune us up if we start to feel rough.”
“It buys us some breathing room,” Knox said. “We have time to figure out where we’re going to go.”
“Uhh, go?” Conall’s eyes widened in alarm. “Is leaving really a question? We won’t find any permanent fixes out in some backwater village running on generator power.”
Gray snorted. “And if we stay here with people who want to shoot us, then sooner or later, someone’s going to turn our asses in to the Protectorate brass.”
Rafe wasn’t looking at either of them. “Do you want to go, Luna?”
“I don’t want to completely uproot Tia Ivonne,” she admitted, “but her safety is my priority. I’ll do whatever I have to do to guarantee that.”
And Luna’s safety had to be a priority. If the Devils left her behind, there was a high probability the TechCorps would eventually unearth the connection between them. After all, Ava had managed it.
So she and Tia Ivonne would have to come, too. Just a band of rogue supersoldiers, their biohacker sidekick, and her elderly aunt.
What could go wrong?
It would be a disaster … and it was still their best shot. “If we stay, they’ll come at us. And they won’t stop coming. All it’s going to take is one pissed-off local venting to the wrong person, and the countdown will start.”
“I don’t want to spend my life running,” Gray said. “I’m not judging anyone who wants to split, but I think I’ll stay right here. Enjoy the time I have left.”
“It’s not hard to lose yourself down here on the south side of the city. Too many people, no facial recognition infrastructure, the locals’ charming tendency to shoot down drones…” Rafe scratched at his stubble. “Maybe I’ll grow a beard.”
“You’d look hot with a beard,” Conall said approvingly. “Gray would probably look like the kind of guy who hides in cabins and builds bombs, though.”
Gray stifled a yawn and held up his middle finger.
Knox rose and gripped the back of his chair, as if he could hide his tension when the wood groaned in protest under his fingers. “I’m not joking, Conall.”
“Neither am I,” he retorted. “I mean, about the reclusive bomber thing, yeah. Gray already looks like one of those. But I don’t want to go die on a farm somewhere, Knox. Give me the rest of the day. I’ll scramble our trail a little. Lay a few false bread crumbs. I can play cat and mouse better than anyone in the Protectorate.”
“And I still have contacts who can help us,” Rafe added. “Even people on the inside. And since when has any other squad ever been a match for us, anyway?”
They were so earnest. So hopeful. Even Gray’s cynicism had taken a peculiar twist toward embracing life. Knox had fought and bled and carved out his own heart to buy their futures, and they planned to gamble them on the irrational hope that they could outmaneuver the inevitable.
He wanted to forbid it, to load them all up into a truck and leave the dust of Atlanta behind. They could find their remote little farm. Hell, they could go back to Dalton. The place made him think of peach iced tea and country dances under the sweltering night sky. He’d been happy there, twirling under the twinkling lights and the distant stars.
Of course, Nina had been with him then.
The chair back creaked under his grip, and the wood split with a crack. Knox blew out a breath and stared at the broken pieces.
He’d bought their lives with his pain, but he didn’t own their futures. That had been the whole fucking point. He wasn’t their commanding officer anymore.
“All right,” he said quietly. “We stay.”
RAFE
The dream was nice. He always enjoyed a warm body, a husky laugh, the scent of clean hair and subtle perfume. Fingers flexing, lips touching … When