Nausea twirls in my stomach, threatening to burst free. I sway on my feet, stumbling a little. Dax flicks his gaze to me, slamming his lips together in a hard line. “They have guns,” I press. I know he knows that, but he doesn’t seem to give a shit, and that scares me more than anything else does. He has no regard for his life right now. It’s like he wants to die. That was never Dax.
