“Tell me,” she said.
“I love you.”
“In Italian.”
“Ti amo.”
She pressed her nose to his, cupping the side of his head.
He lowered his voice. “I’ll whisper other things in Italian to you later.”
With another hiccupping laugh, she wrapped her arms around him and held on tight.
Before she knew it, they were landing back at the Enclave.
When Tane opened the side door, the general was standing there, waiting with Squad Nine. Arden’s squad all looked sweaty and tired, their damp hair stuck to their heads.
When Roth caught her eyes, the man’s gaze swept over her. He eyed Dom suspiciously, but when Arden smiled, Roth relaxed and nodded.
As soon as Hemi climbed out of the Hawk, Cam appeared. She threw her arms around her man and he bent her over, kissing her noisily.
Hell Squad moved over to join the group, having landed just before them.
“The bomb was a fake,” the general said.
Tane nodded. “Gizzida planted a nice little trap for us.”
A muscle ticked in Holmes’ jaw. He pressed one hand to his hip. “We rest. We regroup. Then we find the damn thing.”
All around, the soldiers nodded.
“We do what we do best,” Arden said.
Everyone turned around to look at her.
“We persist. We keep trying. We never give up.” She leaned into Dom. “We all have too much to live for.”
Nate
Nate Caldwell made his way silently through the trees, his axe resting on his shoulder. As he neared the clearing ahead, he heard a sound overhead and froze.
A quadcopter shot by, an alien ship following closely behind. Laser fire arrowed through the air, and then he lost sight of them.
Quietly, he stayed in the shadow of the trees, waiting to see if he could glimpse or hear anything else. He’d heard the commotion to the north earlier. The humans had fought another skirmish with the aliens.
He hoped the soldiers had given the scaly bastards hell.
He stared into the sky where he’d seen the aircraft. A part of him, the warrior, wanted to grab his weapons and join the fight.
Fight. Kill. Protect.
Gritting his teeth, Nate tamped the battle urge back down. Thinking of soldiers made him think of his old team. For a second, the Blue Mountains disappeared, and instead there was hot desert sun, the sound of laser fire, the shouts of his fellow Marines.
Then there was pain and the rich scent of blood.
His fingers dug into the handle of his axe. He dragged in a deep breath. Then another. And another.
For the next few minutes, Nate worked through his breathing routine until his pulse rate slowed.
The breathing techniques were the only thing he’d taken from the short time he’d spent with a therapist after he’d left the Coalition Marines. That had been long ago. After a different, long-gone war.
That battle was long gone, like his fellow Marines.
Nate let out a sharp whistle and his dog bounded out of the trees. The blue heeler was lean and fit. He rubbed the dog’s head. “Come on, Blue. No more fighting for us.”
After several deployments in the Middle East, Nate had come back from war to his family home in Colorado. He’d had trouble adjusting and settling back into regular life. PTSD, they’d told him. There had been medication, group therapy, prolonged exposure therapy.
He shifted the axe, and crouched down to pick up the pile of wood he’d chopped earlier. He tucked the wood under his arm.
Nothing had helped him back then. He’d had horrific nightmares, angry outbursts at his worried family, then he’d started drinking. After that, he’d started fighting.
He blew out a breath
Nate had been drowning, and when he’d broken a man’s jaw and another man’s arm in a bar fight, he knew he was spiraling down and nothing could stop it.
Then he’d learned that he’d inherited a cabin in the Australian Blue Mountains, from a great-aunt. Old aunt Janine had been a battle-axe. The few times he’d seen her as a kid, she’d scowled at him and told him not to bring his dirty shoes inside her house.
He had no idea why she’d left the cabin to him, but she’d saved his life.
Through the trees, his cabin came into view. It was small, made from wood, with a tiny deck at the back. It hadn’t changed much from when Janine had lived here. He’d repaired parts of it, including most of the roof. He enjoyed working with his hands.
Pausing, Nate breathed deep, pulling in the crisp mountain air.
He’d come here just a few months before the alien invasion and gone off-grid. He’d disappeared from the regular world, keeping in touch with his family via email. He’d left all the responsibility and expectations of life behind. The cabin had a generator, water from a stream, well-used garden beds. It was completely self-contained.
Then the aliens had come and destroyed the world.
After the invasion, he’d followed the news on the radio until the stations had gone silent.
He’d tried to contact his family, but there’d been nothing.
Shit. He blindly scanned the trees and hoped his parents and brother and sister had survived. He wished he’d talked to them more. Wished he hadn’t caused them so much worry and heartache.
Nate had seen plenty of the aliens in the mountains. Luckily, the bastards didn’t like the trees. He’d done recon, gathering intel on them, but steering clear of their big ugly, scaled asses.
He dumped the wood by his back door.
He also knew about Blue Mountain Base, and the survivors who’d gathered there. He’d watched them, too. Knew about the squads.
He’d seen them fighting back. He’d watched the Hawks in the sky, seen the armor-clad soldiers. A part of him had yearned to help.
With a huge swing, he thrust the axe into the wood pile. Then he reached up and yanked his damp T-shirt over his head. He rubbed his sweaty face with it.
Nate barely had any body fat. Living off the land and what
