Defender: The Divine Courage Trilogy Book 1, page 34
When the aircraft eventually stopped moving, Larken had been reduced to a mess of trembling sobs. Each breath she took was a wet-sounding wheeze, and she had a death grip on his shirt. Soren rubbed his hand up and down her arm, while simultaneously trying to unbuckle her harness. When it started to sound like Larken might be sick, he pressed his lips to her ear, saying, “Larken, we made it. We’re alive. It’s over.”
She shook her head, not willing to believe him.
“Shhh, it’s over. It’s over, Larken.”
Larken shuddered again, her whole body convulsing like it was trying to purge her fear.
Soren lifted her face and made her look at him. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and her eyes darted around in a panicked frenzy. “Look at me.”
She met his eyes, trying but failing to gulp down air.
“Look at me,” he said again. “I’m not going anywhere.” Soren waited a few seconds before adding, “Take a breath.”
She tried but dissolved into a coughing fit.
“With me.” Soren made sure she was watching him when he opened his mouth and took a slow, deep breath.
Larken still shook, her lungs hitching several times as she tried to breathe with him. Soren repeated the process until her severe tremors turned to mild shaking, and then asked, “Are you able to fight?”
“W-what?” she hiccupped.
“There wasn’t an aircraft near us, so whoever shot us down is somewhere around here. Can you fight?”
Larken stiffened her spine the best she could and answered, “Yes.”
Soren smiled at her. Yes, she could fight. It was the one thing that General Maxwell had ensured that she learned, to not die lying down. Soren stared at her for a moment, knowing that they very well could die tonight and that he should tell her everything. He should tell her that she drove him crazy, that he hated the music she listened to with a passion but could never get the melodies out of his head. He should tell her that whenever she was near him, he didn’t know if he should pull out all his hair or pull her into his arms. Soren should tell her all the times he had come so close to kissing her, and how she made his heart feel like it was going to explode and stop all at once. He knew that if there was ever a time to be honest with her, this was it, but he couldn’t.
Soren didn’t want her to think that his confession was a goodbye, and being that honest was still too big a step for him to take. Angry with himself, he pulled open a hatch in the dashboard and took two handguns from it. He lifted his hips, sticking one in the waistband of his pants at his back, and held the other tightly with his hand. Larken had already taken what she wanted from the dashboard as well, cocking the handgun, and then nodded at him.
Soren threw his shoulder into the door, having to help force it open. He crept out of the aircraft, trying not to cough as he was assaulted with the smoke and fumes that the thing emitted. On the plus side, they would hopefully have a few seconds of cover while Soren helped Larken out. Turning, he reached for her, and she placed her hand in his, the jacket sleeve falling far enough to cover both of their hands. Soren reached for her with the hand his gun was in, trying to help her over the seat, when a shot was fired.
A burning pain exploded across his abdomen, as his right side screamed in agony. Soren grunted and fell to his right knee, trying to breathe past the fire in his lungs. Quieter than a mouse, Larken hopped from the aircraft and pushed him to the ground. She was practically on top of him when she put her lips to his ear and asked, “Can you move?”
Soren sucked in a breath through his teeth and grunted, “Yeah.”
He tried to ignore the blood creeping across the white of his shirt and let Larken help maneuver him away from the direction where the bullet had come from. Gone was the terrified mess that Soren had held so close only moments ago, and in her place, a calculated soldier that had no intentions of dying.
“We can assume that Vallen called for help,” Larken whispered. “He no doubt activated the tracking device in my communicator, so he would know the general area that we crashed in. Now, it’s only a matter of staying alive until we’re found.”
“Easier said than done,” Soren said with a wince. “You’re not the one that was shot.”
Larken’s eyes danced as she looked at him. “Don’t be such a baby.”
“Oh, just you wait. When we get back, I’m going to—”
Larken gasped, cutting Soren off. She was pulled to her feet by a man about their age, dressed all in black with an open military-issued helmet. She winced as he held her upright by her hair. In the fading smoke, Soren could see he had grey eyes that glinted in the moonlight, and they danced as they looked at him bleeding on the ground. Larken whimpered and he yanked her even closer, making her drop her gun, a sick grin crossing his face as he did. Soren felt his blood boil, and he tried to get to his feet.
“Ah, ah, ah,” the man chastised with a thick, smoky accent. “Not so fast.” He took a step back, pulling Larken with him, and pointed a gun at her jaw. “One more move and the girl gets it.”
Soren snarled, his bullet wound burning more than it should be. He welcomed the pain, thankful that it wasn’t infused with valerian extract, like the one that had hit Larken. At least this way, he would be awake and get a chance to try and fight back.
A faint crackle could be heard, and then a murmured voice. The guy cocked his head to the left like it would help him hear whoever was talking better, and said, “Yeah, I got the girl.” There were more staticky murmurs, and then the man asked, “What do you want me to do with the boyfriend?”
“Let him live!” Larken pleaded in a strangled cry. “Please, I’ll go willingly, just let him live!”
He pulled Larken’s hair again, making her yelp, and pressed his nose to her neck. Soren could see the twisted look on the man’s face as he said, “I don’t care if you’re willing or not, love, you’re coming either way. You’ll have to do a lot more if you want him to keep his life.”
“Don’t even—”
Soren’s snarl was cut short as Larken agreed, “Whatever it takes.”
The man’s grey eyes glinted. “Is that so?”
Soren glared daggers at the guy but had to force his eyes to stay on his face, as Larken moved her hand to the pocket of his jacket.
“Yes,” she whimpered, still playing the role of the scared, helpless girl. “I’ll do whatever you want if it means he can live.”
The man chuckled. “You always so willing, or does being held at gunpoint get your blood going?”
There was a click, and Soren let his eyes fall to the gun that now dug into the man’s side.
“You tell me,” Larken snarled. “Are you suddenly all hot and bothered?”
Soren gripped his gun once more and aimed it at the guy’s head. The man pulled his gun away from Larken, lifting his finger from the trigger as a show of peace. Then he let go of her hair, and she stumbled away from him, losing a heel in the grass. The man scowled at them for only a moment, before he dropped and leaped behind the aircraft. More shots fired in their direction, and Larken tried to cover Soren with her small form.
Gritting his teeth, Soren tried to suppress his cry of pain as he rolled and threw himself over her. He seethed, “Not a chance!”
Soren stared down at Larken, her glare fierce enough to make General Maxwell proud. The urge to kiss her was so strong that he almost couldn’t help himself as he smirked down at her. She only rolled her eyes and scoffed, “You idiot.”
“What?” he rasped. “I thought girls liked grand romantic gestures?”
“Bleeding out and dying on top of a girl is not a grand romantic gesture. It just makes you stupid.”
The chuckle that fell from his lips sent stabs of pain through his abdomen. He cupped her face as he asked, “Are you still okay?”
They could hear footsteps, and Larken sent a panicked look in their direction. The assailants were calling to each other, working out a plan as they approached. Larken’s eyes shot back to his, and they were wide as she hurriedly said, “I have to tell you something.”
“Wha—”
“These men aren’t Faithfuls. I should have told you sooner, but I—” Larken swallowed hard. “That doesn’t matter now. But, I know for a fact that these aren’t—”
More gunfire cut Larken off, and she grunted as Soren let himself drop onto her, his stomach sinking as her words settled over him. He could hear her struggling to breathe under him, but she would thank him later when she wasn’t shot. Thinking fast and pushing her admission to the back of his mind until this was over, he hissed, “Grab the gun in my waistband.”
Soren had to lift off her a little so she could reach the gun. When her fingers closed around it, Soren rolled off of her. She took aim and hit one of the guys in the ankle, causing him to crumple to the ground as he screamed in agony. She fired again and had another guy dropping his gun as she hit his wrist. They didn’t know how many enemies there were, but Larken could handle herself, and she had two other guns with her that Soren knew of. Determining that she had control of the situation, for now, Soren made his way around the aircraft in search of the guy that had man-handled Larken.
After stumbling a few times, Soren managed to get to his feet and rounded the aircraft. His stomach fell when he found that the guy was nowhere to be found. Knowing that there was no sense standing there and thinking about what he would do if he ever saw him again, Soren turned and made his way back to Larken.
She was gone too, having abandoned the spot where he had left her, along with her other shoe, and charged the men that shot at her. Larken looked like the living embodiment of a long-forgotten warrior goddess as she took her anger out on the men that had almost killed them. Soren hobbled out to her, wanting to help, holding his side as he did. Larken dodged bullets, fired her own, and was no doubt griping about not being better prepared.
There were three assailants left that Soren could see, and four moaning on the ground. He had no idea if there were any more, or where they might come from. Thoughts of hanging back and giving Larken cover or joining her in the fray warred in his mind. But one lucky shot that grazed Larken’s exposed calf had him charging in, completely forgetting his own wound.
Larken cried out and stumbled, leaving her open for the man that rushed to her. She had just enough time to look up at her assailant before he lifted his rifle and knocked the butt of it against her temple. Larken collapsed to the ground without a sound, and Soren roared as he shot at the man. The first bullet hit him in the chest, the second in the gut. Soren was already onto the next one, knowing that he wouldn’t need the remaining ten bullets in his gun.
He quickly took out the last two guys, not even bothering to watch them fall to the ground. Soren could only focus on Larken as he dropped to her side. She was still breathing, but it sounded ragged. He looked her over for any other wounds than the two he witnessed, and when he was satisfied that there weren’t any, he reached for her face. A trail of blood trickled from her hairline down the side of her face, staining the blonde curls that were falling from the pins.
His fingers trembled as he touched her, reliving the last time he had found her like this. There had been so much blood, and he hadn’t been able to wake her up then. Soren shook her slightly, whispering her name. Larken’s eyelashes fluttered but didn’t open. She looked so small and pale, laying there covered in his jacket in the dark grass. Sighing, Soren looked to the sky, praying that she had been right about help finding them soon.
Another shot was fired off, though it missed him. Soren raised his gun and took out the last few men. He didn’t even bat an eye as the last one stopped breathing. If he were in better condition, he would have tried to question one, but his side protested any movement. And Larken… He shook his head, chasing away the thought.
Time passed slowly, and soon his wound throbbed and burned again. Larken started to shiver, and Soren knew that they couldn’t wait around all night. Pulling her towards him, Soren took her in his arms and forced his feet to bear his weight. He staggered a few times as he willed his legs to cooperate, and whatever clotting his wound had managed was now gone. Pushing through the pain and the dizziness, Soren took a step, and then another. He had made it back to where Larken had left her shoes when he heard the engines. Soon floodlights chased the darkness from the field they were in, and Soren thought his knees might give out in relief.
Around twenty aircraft landed in the open field, some with the crossed swords insignia of the Military District, others he recognized from the base, and the rest he had to assume were from Base 13 since it was closest.
General Maxwell was the first one out, leaping from one of the aircraft from the Manor, and Soren knew that he, more likely than not, had probably knocked out a few medics before being allowed to leave. Levi and Loxly were out next, jumping from the Arsene, and were followed by more faces that faded into the background. General Maxwell reached Soren first, his eyes hard and lined with silver as he took in his adoptive daughter, who was still unconscious in his arms.
Something passed between the two men, and instead of trying to take Larken from him, General Maxwell called, “Out of the way, these two need a medic!”
Loxly and Levi were soon flanking Soren, but he refused their help as he carried Larken to the aircraft that General Maxwell indicated. People were rushing around, already preparing stretchers for them. Levi jumped into the fray, pulling supplies and filling syringes with unknown antibacterial substances that Soren didn’t want to think about. There was another medic with dark caramel skin and wavy black hair that General Maxwell barked orders to, and Soren assumed that he would be caring for Larken.
Gently laying her across one of the stretchers, Larken’s lashes fluttered again. Her eyes opened briefly, and she smiled at him after her gaze fell briefly to a soldier rushing past. Her lips parted, and Soren bent close so he could hear her. Shallow breaths puffed against his neck as she whispered, “Told you they’d come.”
Soren pulled back just enough to cup her cheek. He noticed her necklace was still around her neck, and he smiled despite his pain. “Yes, you did.”
Levi barged in, forcing Soren onto the stretcher reserved for him. Ripping his shirt, the blond looked at the wound and grunted. Looking up at him, Levi apologized, saying, “Sorry, friend.” Then he stuck Soren with a needle, pushing the contents into his body.
Eyes growing heavy, Soren grunted, “That hurt, you no good pretty—”
Then the darkness swallowed him before he could finish.
CHAPTER 32
Larken stretched, her back popping as she did. Soren grimaced at her side, and she pushed him further by cracking her knuckles as well. He stood and loomed over her, glaring at her in the way only he could. His brown hair fell into his eyes, and he didn’t bother to push it out of the way. It had gotten longer in the week that he had spent recuperating in the medic building, and it somehow managed to make him look even more handsome.
Larken raised her eyebrow in a challenge, daring him to say something and open himself up to a joke about squeamishness. His jaw ticked, and he took a step away. Larken beamed at him, rubbing in her victory as he went back to his own stretches. He lifted one arm behind his head and pulled at the elbow, making his biceps bulge. Soren sent Larken a challenging smirk of his own, and this time it was her turn to look away.
Face hot, Larken dared another peek over her shoulder. Soren was now on the ground, stretching his legs, making sure that he was ready for their workout. The week he had spent in the medic building had gone by in a blur of training and spending all of her free time there. Larken had done whatever she could think of to help make him more comfortable. Making playlists of songs that he sang in the tabernacle, purchasing books and sending them to his new communicator so he wouldn’t be bored, even bringing him food so he wouldn’t have to eat what was being served in the cafeteria. He often complained about the amount of soup that she brought him, but the hearty broth kept his weight up, and he always ate every single spoonful.
The bullet wound wasn’t that big of a fix; it was the infused monkshood that kept Soren under constant surveillance. With the adrenaline pumping through his veins that night, it was a wonder that he didn’t have a stroke then and there. But, he had somehow managed to pull through, with nothing but a scar to remind him that it had happened. Larken had heard Hinlee giving him a hard time about the thing one evening, but she didn’t know about Soren’s distrust of medics. Larken had kept her mouth shut through the whole of the conversation, making herself a promise that none of her squad members would ever receive another injury like that because of her.
Needing to pull herself from the dark turn her thoughts had taken, Larken synced up her communicator with the speakers in the gym, blaring Shadric Barlow just to get a rise out of Soren. She laughed as he grumbled behind her and then took off at a slow jog. Larken wasted no time catching up, and they fell into silence as they ran around the gym. They didn’t talk about what had happened at the opera, or in the garden, or what was said before the crash. It was like a weight that had settled between them that they were both too stubborn to try and move.
There had been one night though, shortly after Soren had been admitted, when she had been forced to crawl into his bed and hide from the speculations that had started circulating after the excitement of their crash died down. Photographs had been taken, and every reporter on every major channel thought it was their duty to add their thoughts on why the Military Sweetheart would resemble a famous Star that had left the stage to direct what happened on it instead. She had buried her face into his chest as he pulled the covers up over her head, the silent promises he had made her in the aircraft still staying silent as he kept them.
But now that he was out of that room and back in the dorm, Larken was almost tempted to try and push that weight a little. She would never forget the way he had held her as they crashed to the earth or the things he had whispered in her ear. She had wanted so many times to ask if he had meant any of those things, or if he just thought that saying them would help calm her. She felt hollow whenever she told herself it was that latter, but her heart hoped that when he said that he would always be there and that he would never let her go, no matter what happened to him, that he really meant it.
