The blast hit before I even heard the trigger.
Heat, smoke, and glass ripped through the air. The world folded in on itself for a heartbeat, then came roaring back in fire and dust.
I hit the floor hard, the breath slammed out of my lungs. Somewhere behind me, Aurora screamed my name. That sound carved straight through the noise—pure, terrified, alive.
I forced myself up. My shoulder burned where shrapnel grazed it, but I didn't care. She was all I could think about.
"Aurora!" I coughed through smoke thick enough to choke a bull. The cabin was half gone, a wall missing, the ceiling caving. Flames licked the floorboards. She lay near the door, half-covered by debris. I stumbled to her, hands shaking, dragged the broken wood away until she gasped and her eyes fluttered open.
"I've got you," I said. My voice came out rough, raw. "Stay with me."
She nodded weakly, dazed but conscious. That was enough.
Outside, engines revved—two, maybe three trucks. They weren't giving up.
