The world detonated.
The shockwave threw me back like a ragdoll. I hit the ground hard, pain splintering through my back, my ribs, my skull. The earth shook. The sky screamed. The sound—the sound was a goddamn banshee wail of hellfire and chaos.
And my first thought—
Not my body.
Not the pain.
Ivan.
No. No, no, no—
I crawled up, half-blind through smoke and dust and screaming voices. My ears were ringing, blood hot in my mouth. Soldiers ran past, shouting orders. Flames licked the sky just ahead—in the direction Ivan had gone.
"Ivan," I choked out.
No one heard me.
I didn't feel the pain until the ground stopped shaking.
There was blood on my hands, smoke in my throat, fire behind my eyes. My ears rang like church bells during war, the taste of iron thick in my mouth as I forced myself to stand. My leg—I don't even know if it was broken or torn or just something less than human—but I limped through the carnage anyway. I couldn't stop. Not now.
