He wanted to tell her that he loved her. Just in case whatever happened next was fatal. But at the same time, he didn't want to burden her with the worry. She knew he was coming after her. She trusted that he'd have her back and that was the thought that was killing him. If he couldn't come up with a way to bring this thing down, he might not be able to save her the next time. His grip on the bow tightened. It just meant that he'd have to be true to his word. He'd have to follow her.

He looked at the machine. In the chest, she'd said. Not much chance of opening it up with an arrow. He didn't have a working gun. Gun.

He took another step back, brushing aside his fingers along her side for more for his own benefit than hers.

"I don't suppose you have a working gun?"