Lola’s POV

By the time Joe and the warriors reached the highway, the fight was already over.

I was kneeling on the ground, cradling Flint in my arms. His blood had soaked into my clothes, warm against my skin, but all I could feel was the cold.

“Flint…” My voice cracked. “Please, stay with me.”

His breathing was shallow, his eyelids fluttering weakly. When I brushed the hair from his forehead, my hands trembled so badly I could barely see.

Joe was the first to reach us. He froze for ...