I shook my head, ignoring the fear spreading through my insides, making my stomach curl. “I won’t need one.”

Behind me, Riley made an impatient sound and reached for something at his back. “Dammit, Ember,” he growled. “Yes, you will. Here.” He tossed the pistol at me, and my heart lurched as I caught it. “Just don’t get yourself killed, all right?”

His eyes stabbed at me, and I couldn’t tell if he was furious, worried, or absolutely terrified, before they shifted to Garret. “We’re running out of time,” he said, his voice clipped and matter-of-fact. “What do you need on our end, St. George?”

“We’ll never make it to the house if the sniper sees us coming,” Garret replied calmly. “Can you cause a distraction? Something that will take the shooter’s focus off the surrounding area for a few seconds?”

“Yeah.” Riley nodded, and raked a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I can do that. Wes…” He glanced at the human, still huddled behind the couch. “Get ready to move. You’re in charge of finding us another car, now that the van’s been shot to hell.” There was a muffled curse behind the sofa, and Riley turned back to us. “Get going. I’ll make sure their attention is elsewhere.”

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Oh, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Right.” I took a breath and glanced at the soldier beside me. “Okay,” I whispered, resolved for what I had to do. “Ready if you are.”

“Ember.”

Riley’s voice was almost strangled. I looked back to find those piercing gold eyes on me, his expression tormented. “Don’t get hurt, Firebrand,” he said in a low voice, meant only for the two of us. “I don’t think I could take it this time. Come back alive, okay?”

A lump caught in my throat, and I nodded.

Garret brushed my arm, indicating for me to follow. With one last look at Riley, I turned away, trailing the soldier through the living room and out the back door, stepping into a dusty, weed-strewn yard. We sidled around the house, keeping our backs to the wall, until we came to the corner and the edge of the driveway. Garret peeked around the wall, his gaze scanning the open street and the rows of houses across from us. I braced myself against him to peek over his shoulder, feeling the tension lining his back.

“When do we move?” I whispered, thinking that the distance from one side of the road to the other had never looked so far.

“We have to wait for the distraction,” Garret replied, easing back. “Right now, we’re right in the shooter’s line of sight. We have to get across the road and behind the houses without being seen.”

I swallowed. “I wonder what Riley’s going to—”