The storm enveloped my voice as I shouted for the team to clear the path ahead of us.
The rain was fierce and kept hammering the top of the armored SUV like fists against metal, a steady, relentless percussion that only made the panic in my chest worse.
Elena's body was limp in my arms—too light, too cold. Her head fell against my shoulder as if her body had forgotten she had bones, breath, or pulse.
Her psychic presence, once a warm, stubborn, luminous pulse in the back of my consciousness, had gone terrifyingly silent.
Just faint, faint enough to make my own breath shake.
I tightened my grip, lifting her higher as I pushed into the vehicle. Thorne shut the door behind me, sealing out the rain, sealing in the cold terror.
"Drive," I snapped.
The engine growled and lurched forward. I cupped her head, brushing wet strands away from her face. Her breaths were shallow, thin ribbons of air between moments of stillness.
