Page 63 of Viking

But he’s already moving, sprinting into the open like the reckless bastard he is, no hesitation, just pure instinct.

“Cover him!” I bark. I favor my left side as I raise my rifle toward the source of the attack, adrenaline finally overriding the pain in my arm. Bullets chew up the dirt around Ryan, zipping past like hornets. My heart pounds, each beat a countdown I can’t stop.

I squeeze the trigger, and the storm of rounds goes silent. For now.

Ryan nods at me as he reaches the crew, dropping to his knees beside one of the guys slumped against the ground. “Move! Go, go!” he shouts, hauling the man up, shielding him with his own body as he pushes them toward cover.

I want to scream at him to hurry. To stop being a damn hero.

Then I see it.

A flash from the treeline—a rocket.

Time slows. My body’s frozen, mind trying to catch up, knowing there’s no way we can move fast enough.

“Carter!”

He turns, his eyes locking with mine for a split second before he takes off in my direction. He doesn’t think, he just moves. Ryan slams into me with the force of a freight train, knocking me hard to the ground. The breath explodes from my lungs as we hit the dirt, me landing on my bad shoulder forcing the metal in deeper, him landing on top of me—covering and shielding my body.

The rocket impacts a heartbeat later.

The explosion is deafening. Heat and debris wash over us.

When I come to, there’s a ringing in my ears, dust choking the air. I shove at the weight on top of me—Ryan.

“Spartan.” My voice is raw, panicked.

He doesn’t move as I slide him off me as gently as I can. I leave bloody handprints when I crawl around him on my knees to rip open his torn flight suit.

Blood. Too much of it.

“Spartan.” I shake him, my hands slick with crimson. “No, no, no. Come on, man. Ryan!” I choke out his name, pressing my hands against the wound just below his heart. “You’re okay. You’re going to be fine.”

He blinks up at me, his hazel eyes glassy but still holding that damn spark. “Logan,” he whispers, his voice barely audible.

“You idiot,” I say, my voice breaking. “You didn’t have to…why the hell did you do that?”

He coughs weakly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Someone’s gotta keep your ass alive.”

Tears blur my vision, but I don’t stop applying pressure, even as his blood slips through my fingers. The medic arrives, but one look at his face tells me what I don’t want to admit.

“See you on the other side, brother.” Ryan’s hand twitches, gripping mine for a moment before it goes still.

“No!” The word rips from my throat, raw and broken. “No, Carter, you don’t get to fucking do this. Ryan!”

Around me, the fight rages on, but it feels distant, like I’m underwater.

Townsend grabs my good arm, dragging me to my feet. I shove him off, stumbling back toward Ryan, but he steps in front of me.

“He’s gone, Logan,” Townsend says, his voice cracking on my name. “We have to move.”

The words are a hammer to my gut. I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t do anything but stare at Ryan’s lifeless body as the world burns around us.

I glance back at the Raptors as we retreat. Somehow, miraculously, they’re untouched.

But it doesn’t matter.

Nothing fucking matters.