The explosion blows me backwards, back down the hill. I land on my back, rolling half a dozen times before sliding to a halt. I have so much adrenaline pumping through me that, luckily, I barely feel it.
I cough and gasp for breath. My lungs are so strained I can barely breathe. I climb to my feet. What used to be the medical tent is now a giant pile of fiery rubble. Big plumes of black smoke rise into the air, embers dancing happily around each other at another successful explosion.
The tent is gone. Which means Nate is gone. After everything he’s been through. After everything I’ve been through and everything I did to save him, I still couldn’t.
I start to lose it. I fall to my knees from exhaustion, pressing my hand into my aching ribs. He was a friend. A friend who risked his life for me and in turn, that’s what it cost him. He was such a good person. And the last time I ever spoke to him was me yelling at him for being out of line. That’s not how your last words to a friend are supposed to be.
I put my hand over my lips and start rocking on my knees, trying desperately to keep it together, and failing more and more with each passing second.
And as I’m about to tip over the edge, two figures emerge from the smoke. My breath catches in my throat.
It’s Nate.
He made it out. He’s alive.
-The Warlord of Yorkshire - Chapter 26 - Lydia's POV
Gender:
Points: 3819
Reviews: 93