This was harder than Rayne expected. She swung with her right arm and jumped, gripping the bar above her. Her left arm lay still in the sling. Not once twitching or attempting to move in tandem with its partner. Using every ounce of her bruised strength, Rayne pulled herself up, squeezing her bicep. Pain bit into her palm, and the surgical glue tugged with the stitches. Her hand let go before her chin met the bar. With her body exhausted, it begged for mercy.

“I’m putting you on bed rest,” Xelan called from behind.

Rayne closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t let him see. She spun around with a soft smile to say, “I’m running things now, Wingmaster. You can’t put me on bed rest unless I say.”

Xelan frowned and walked across the slate tiles. The walls were washed in a pale shade of gray. The ductwork, beams, and ceiling were all painted black. Hanging fluorescent lights illuminated all her ugliness. She was sure. At least she’d taken a sponge bath. She wasn’t allowed to shower for the stitches. God, she’d love to get in the hot tub.

“Ow!” Rayne flinched.

Xelan peered from his height and touched the sutures on her face and hands. “Careful for these, or I’ll have to restitch them. This isn’t my best work. You’ll scar.” When he glanced at her face, he dropped her hand like it burned. “Rayne.”

“I’m fine,” she lied. Such a big fucking lie. She stared beyond him. On the other side of the door, The Brethren were debating whether she should lead considering the state of her. There was no question in her mind. Sure her left arm was dead from permanent nerve damage—like black sleeve, black sling dead—but she could lead just fine with one arm. “I suppose you’ve said your part.”

Xelan nodded beside her and stepped away, saying, “Lucas is pitching his vote now. His is the last. I’m sure it will all work out. You made it very clear this fight is yours, and as a human fighting on behalf of your race, you have every right to lead.”

Rayne needed to cover so many things: shelters for survivors, supply runs, training, communication, and much more. She owed Xelan a wealth of gratitude for establishing this airline and all of its posts around North America. He’d employed predominantly former military or some form of public service such as firefighters and paramedics. Steady, experienced people. Now she wanted to send them out there and help the human effort on all fronts.

Xelan had stocked basic supplies she’d never considered like socks, allergy meds, and feminine products. Oh god… feminine products. That ‘thank you’ would get awkward. She almost asked if he’d packed away diapers for the inevitable baby boom.

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Xelan slipped onto a wooden bench in a graceful collapse. Thrusting his fingers in his hair, he muttered, “This day will eventually end.”

Amen to that. Rayne wanted to lift his spirits. “So will you ask Tameka out now that the world is ending?” What better way than to pick on him?

Xelan straightened up and dropped his hands, asking, “What did you just say?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear me. Your Icarean ears work just fine.” Rayne sat down beside him on the bench. The whole of it was painful on her sore muscles and blistered back. She hid a wince.

“Now, Rayne—”

She shook her head and interrupted him, “Tameka is into you. You’ve always known, haven’t you? Don’t lie to me or yourself. And…” Rayne nudged him with her good arm as she confessed, “I worry about you being lonely.”

“You worry about me?” Xelan asked. The entire vibe of his demeanor shifted from embarrassment to wonder. “You’re one of the loneliest people I know.”

Rayne grimaced and stood. There was no sense in changing the subject to her. She said, “Tameka deserves to be happy, too.” She considered shrugging off the vibe in the room, but all the scrapes and cuts along her body thought better of it. Rayne kept her back to him as she stared at the pull-up bar. Fearing she made him uncomfortable, Rayne changed the subject. “Tell me about Andrew’s part in the Brethren.”

Xelan said, “Andrew joined to represent the Progeny, but he despised the politics. The work here damaged his trust in me.” The confession made her turn and face him. Rayne wanted to know about everything in Xelan’s life so badly, but the fact that Andrew took a little slice of the pie left her curious beyond end. He continued, “He hated lying to you.”

“As he should.” Uh oh. The General voice. Rayne was growing into it, but in this case, it might be a tad overkill.

Not a wince or a pained look, Xelan’s face remained smooth and open. “You’re right. I sided with The Brethren until four months ago. I regret any decision I’ve made with them since. But now that you’re here, it’ll get better. It will finally have a strong human voice to affect the decisions.”

Rayne held up her hand, and he stopped speaking. She said, “We can talk about politics later. At this moment, I need to thank you so much for everything that you have already done for us. I mean…” She reached for him and enveloped him in an awkward hug given he was sitting and she was standing. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” A tiny sob escaped when her left arm stayed put.

Rayne knew Xelan was trying his best to place his hands somewhere appropriate, but also without injury. Slim pickings there. He said against her, “Thank you for not dying. I think if I’d lost you I would have self-destructed and destroyed this entire planet.”

She pulled back to lock onto his eyes. “You can do that?!”

Xelan smirked. “No, but I think it’s cute the things you think me capable of. Like having any chance of a healthy relationship with one of your dearest friends.”

Rayne balled a painful fist and punched him in the bicep.

“Ow!” Xelan rubbed his arm. “And don’t go doing that.” He plied her fist open to check the stitches, again. Without giving her eye contact, he said, “I do owe Tameka an apology.”

Before Rayne could ask why, the door opened. Lucas stepped out with a smile. He’s a keeper. Not that she ever doubted Xelan’s confidence in him.

Lucas beamed at her affectionately. “General Callahan.”