Chapter 42

He whirled and saw us. The corners of his mouth quivered, and I know it's the closest I'll come to a grin while he's on patrol. That almost smile faded as his gaze wandered over my physique, and I remember the precise moment he saw the bruises and scratches on my face and arms. His rifle fell to his side as he vaulted from the pickup's canopy to the platform and vaulted over the rear bumper, landing with a loud bang on the asphalt ground. He took big, determined steps over to us. The way he tightened his fists till his knuckles were translucent and the way his nostrils expanded told me how angry he was. He touched the side of my face, keeping me close while he examined me up and down. His hands stroked over my face, delicately tracing the wounds. He's remarkably kind for how upset I know he was, yet even in his rage, I know he'd never injure me. Why would he be so enraged? It isn't his failure. As his focus shifted to Peter, his brows furrow