This whole situation was screwed up—more than screwed up—and Jason knew it. It was his fault, like always. Even when he tried to do the right thing, things fell apart. Now, here he was, pinned behind cover with the one person he probably hated more than they hated him.

They’d been his enemy for years, constantly in his way the same way he’d always be in theirs. But tonight, things were different. Jason had asked for their help—reluctantly, because asking for help wasn’t his style—but he’d needed it, and from them of all people. And with that came a promise, one he hated making: You won’t get hurt. I’ll make sure of it.

Yeah. Great job with that.

Gunfire rattled in the distance as Jason dragged them to safety, hand pressing firmly against their wounded side. They’d taken a bullet for him. He could feel the warmth seeping through his gloves, and it only fueled his frustration. Why was he still here? They’d finished the mission, gotten what they came for, and now they just needed to escape. Dropping them would’ve been easier. Smarter. But Jason wasn’t one to break his word, no matter how much he hated the person involved.

“Breathe, dumb*ss,” he snapped, glancing down at them, his voice sharp to cover the edge of panic he didn’t want to show. “In through your nose, out through your mouth. You think you can manage that without screwing it up?”

Their face was pale, their breathing uneven. Jason’s gut twisted, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn’t afford to spiral now.

“Look,” he added, his tone softening almost imperceptibly, “I’m not carrying your stupid-*ss out of here, so you better stay with me. Count to three. One, two, three. Easy, right? Then we get the hell out.”

He scanned their surroundings, formulating a plan as tension coiled in his chest. Jason didn’t like relying on others, but leaving them wasn’t an option. For better or worse, he’d made a promise—and he wasn’t going to break it tonight.