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7

Jude

We moved quickly through the broken tunnels, our footsteps muffled by the damp ground. The adrenaline still hummed in my veins but faded slowly, leaving a hollow ache behind.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” I said finally, not looking at him as soon as I leave this country. I’m going home to my ranch in Arizona.

“You shouldn’t have left without me,” Cyclone replied, voice even but edged with something sharp. “We would have taken you home.”

“I can’t go home until I clear my name. You don’t understand. I was deep in it. I know who they are and what they have done. That is why they are after me. The more people around, the more danger they are in.

I clenched my fists. “I had to leave alone. You should never have followed me.”

“You think running alone will fix everything? If you have me with you, at least there will be two of us.”

I stopped, spinning to face him. “You don’t understand. You can’t fix what’s wrong with me, Cyclone. No one can. I have to have a meeting with the top brass.”

He stared at her, his jaw working like he was holding back a thousand words.

“I’m not trying to fix you,” he said after a long moment. “I’m trying to stand with you.”

The honesty in his voice was almost worse than anger. I swallowed hard, forcing the burn in my throat down.

“I don’t know if I can let anyone stand with me,” I whispered. “It’s so dangerous. I’ve always done this alone.”

Cyclone stepped closer, not touching me, but close enough that I could feel his heat.

“Then we’ll figure it out,” he said. “One step at a time.”

For a moment, I thought about pushing him away again.

But I was tired. And, deep down, I was tired of being alone.

“One step,” I agreed quietly.

Cyclone nodded once. Then he turned and scanned the tunnel ahead.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said.

And for the first time in a long while, I followed someone else’s lead—not because I had to, but because I chose to.

Cyclone

The tunnel groaned above us,dust raining from the cracks in the stone. Jude stiffened.

“Move!” I yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her just as a section of the ceiling caved in behind us.

We ran, stumbling over broken tracks and debris, coughing as the air filled with grit. The light from Jude’s flashlight swung around, casting monstrous shadows along the walls.

Ahead, the tunnel forked—one path descending into deeper blackness, the other sloping upward toward the promise of open air.

“This way!” I shouted, steering us toward the upward path.

Another rumble shook the ground, louder this time. I saw Jude stop and glance back—the tunnel we’d come from was collapsing in on itself, sealing off our way back. “Run!” I shouted.

We pushed harder, lungs burning, feet sliding on loose gravel. The air grew fresher, cooler.

A sliver of daylight appeared ahead—tiny, but real.