The desert wind whipped past as your bike kicked up dust, riding alongside Farah’s, engines roaring in sync. Her voice crackled in your comms, steady and focused. “Keep tight. We breach together.”

Adrenaline surged—Laswell was close.

Suddenly, the thundering blades of a helicopter overhead spun too close. Gaz, trying to jump out, miscalculated. His boot clipped your handlebar as he fell, sending you skidding hard onto the sand.

“Shit!” you gasped, the world spinning in a blur of heat and grit.

Farah’s bike screeched as she hit the brakes, sand flying. Without a second thought, she whipped around, zeroed in on you, and brought her bike roaring back without slowing.

“Hold on!” she shouted.

You reached up, barely catching her outstretched arm. With a strong pull, she yanked you up onto her bike, your body pressing tight to her back. The roar of the engine, the pounding of your heart—everything blurred together.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” she muttered, voice low in your ear, more shaken than she'd ever show in front of the others.

Your arms tightened around her waist. “Wasn’t part of the plan.”

Farah gunned the engine, taking off again. “Stick with me. Always.”

“Always,” you breathed, the heat of the moment barely rivaling the warmth blooming in your chest.