“You’re killing me, Brahms,” he murmurs. To my surprise, he gently brushes a strand of hair away from my face. “Damn it.” Extra footsteps thunder towards us. Zane and Finn sprint into view. They’re not alone. Sol is with them too. His eyes lock on mine and something strange passes through his expression. He looks heavy. Guilty. A little unhinged. My gaze returns to Dutch. “What are you all doing here?” “It’s not to see the sights, obviously,” Zane says, running a hand through his hair. “We’re here to help,” Finn adds. His voice is deep and calm as always.
