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Chapter 33

“Stand in there,” Welch said, pointing to the pan. “We want to preserve as much water as we can.” Dakota complied. Welch ran the cloth over his chest, the hot water stinging his skin and steaming in the cold air. Where the colonel washed, Dakota felt refreshed and revitalized as if several inches of dirt, sweat, and grime had been removed, running off his body into the pan. Welch scrubbed away the emotional grit as well, losing Grayson, finding him and losing him again. He wouldn’t weep for Gray again.

He wouldn’t weep for his family. Not while there was still hope. Thousands had survived the Harvesting, so perhaps they had as well.

Besides, he couldn’t weep in front of the colonel, who was washing his back, down to his butt, between his cheeks. Welch rinsed the washcloth in the hot water and pressed it to Dakota’s abs, the warm liquid dripping into his pubic hairs.