his fists. His brows knit together, and his voice is pained. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. “Y’alright, sweet girl? Did they hurt you?”
“Lachlan!” I scream, until my voice is hoarse and it hurts to breathe. It feels as if someone’s squeezing my chest, adrenaline coursing through me with every step that I take. “Lachlan!” I can’t see him. Where is he? There are people screaming and crying, fire to my left and sirens sounding in the distance.
Rubble surrounds us, smoke billowing like a warning, and I realize with a flare of terror that flames are billowing out from the car. It could blow at any minute. Is he inside? I have to get out of here. If I don’t, I could get hurt or worse, and I know it, but I can’t. If I leave without him, I’ll leave a part of my very soul.
“Lachlan.” My voice catches as hope begins to dwindle. I don’t bother to check the tears that course down my cheeks, mixing with soot and ash. Sirens sound in the distance but my heartbeat’s louder.
Slam.
Slam.
Slam.
If he’s gone… no, I can’t think of such a thing. I can’t. It’s a reality that won’t exist. Not now. Not ever.
Light breaks through clouds, and with it, I feel a glimmer of hope.
Don’t give up. Don’t you ever give up.
It’s like I can hear him, that deep, commanding voice of his chasing away my fears and giving me hope.
“I won’t,” I whisper. “I bloody won’t.”
“Fiona!”
I wonder at first if I’ve conjured it up, I’m that in my head. Is it… can it possibly be?
I look to my left. Nothing. And to my right, nothing as well. I squint my eyes and peer ahead of me, but there’s nothing.
How could I have done this? After what he’s done, after what I have, to argue with him right before this happened?
What if I never see him again?
Oh, God, what if he’s gone?
I can’t believe I let my head get in the way of my heart. I need him, and he needs me. We’ve been created for each other, he and I. If he’s gone…
I can’t bear the thought.
He claimed me.
He claimed me.
And as a claimed woman of the Clan, I’m his.
I’m rubbing at the tears on my face, when someone approaches me, trying to help, but I push them away. I don’t want help right now.
I want Lachlan.
He was the first person I went to when I needed help.
The one I’ve confided in.
And he’s the man I’m meant to be with.
I have to find him. I won’t run from him. I won’t turn from him again.
“Lachlan!” I scream, my voice cracking with the intensity of my need to find him.
And then I see him.
Clothes torn and tattered, his face bloody and streaked with soot, he marches through the rubble and carnage, a man with a purpose. He wears a harness strapped to his chest, gleaming metal for anyone in the open to see, but he doesn’t care. He’s oblivious to anything but his search.
“Fiona!”
“Lachlan,” I whisper, unable to summon the voice to call him again. Is he a ghost? Or is that him, the man that I love, the man I would give my everything for, come to find me?
I open my voice to yell to him, but I can’t. My words are frozen, my mouth refusing to work.
But I can run. And I do.
I ignore the broken glass, the rubble, shattered wood, and hissing warning sounds of things about to explode. I ignore the pounding of my heart. I have one purpose, and one purpose only: to get to him.
I trip and fall, tear my jeans, bracing myself on concrete. The skin’s torn off my hands and the pain is excruciating, but I barely register it because I’m on my feet again, running. He doesn’t see me yet, and his voice is growing more desperate. I want to yell to him, to ease his worry, but I can’t speak. I can only run.
“Lachlan,” I whisper. “Wait for me.” I’m a sobbing, hysterical mess when finally his eyes come to mine, and he freezes. It’s only a split second before he begins to run to me.
I clash into him, but he bends, catches me, and gathers me to him.
We don’t speak. His strong, powerful arms wrap around me and he holds me so tightly I can’t breathe. I bury my head in the crook of his neck, and I break into desperate tears.
“Oh, God,” I sob, my shoulders