Seraph sat with her back against cold stone, cradling her broken arm. The pain had dulled to a constant throb that she'd almost gotten used to. Almost. Torres had tried to set it with a makeshift splint made from a rifle stock and torn shirt. It helped. Sort of.
Outside, searchlights swept the ravine in rhythmic patterns.
They'd been hiding for three hours now.
Kaine sat in the corner, looking almost peaceful despite everything. Like he'd made peace with whatever came next. That worried her more than if he'd been panicking.
"Your ship's not coming," he said quietly. "They would've been here by now."
"They'll come." Seraph didn't look at him. Didn't give him the satisfaction.
"Even if they do, you're trapped. My people control the whole region. The moment your ship appears on radar, they'll blow it out of the sky." He shifted, getting comfortable. "You should've just let me die in the crash. That would've been kinder."
