Page 14
Story: Cyclone (The Golden Team #6)
Jude
T he warning came seconds too late.
The radio crackled—a frantic voice: “Movement! East quadrant! Repeat, multiple targets inbound!”
Cyclone was already on his feet, weapon raised, scanning the tree line.
“Positions!” Tag shouted.
I grabbed my rifle and scrambled to cover behind a fallen log. Heart hammering. Sweat slicked my palms. Sometimes I thought it would be easier if I let them kill me, but then I couldn’t kill the Senator who killed my family.
Through the mist, figures appeared—Blackdawn Syndicate operatives, moving fast, rifles up.
Gunfire erupted, sharp and brutal.
I squeezed the trigger, the recoil jolting through me as I dropped one of them. Cyclone moved like a force of nature, calm and deadly, covering Tag and River as they laid down with their guns hitting targets.
It felt endless—shouts, gunfire, the wet slap of boots on mud. I spotted a figure trying to flank our position and shifted, aiming carefully. One shot. Down.
A sharp pain lanced across my arm—a graze—but I ignored it, firing again.
“Hold the line!” Tag shouted.
Then—the low thrum of rotors.
The helicopter, cutting through the mist like salvation itself.
“Fall back to the bird!” Cyclone yelled. “Jude, run now.”
We moved as one, retreating under heavy fire. Tag and River covered us, picking off anyone reckless enough to chase.
The helicopter hovered just above the clearing, a rope ladder dropping down.
Cyclone boosted me up first. My hands burned as I climbed, muscles screaming, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.
At the top, hands grabbed me, pulling me in.
Cyclone was right behind me, hauling himself up like he weighed nothing.
Tag and River followed, River cursing under his breath as a bullet nicked the edge of the helicopter’s skid.
The rest of the Golden Team jumped inside, the hatch slamming shut.
The helicopter banked hard, engines screaming, and the jungle fell away beneath us.
Safe.
For now.
The helicopter shuddered through the dense clouds, every jolt and dip making my nerves scream. I sat hunched in my seat, clutching the straps across my chest like they might anchor me to something real.
Cyclone sat across from me, his rifle cradled in his lap, eyes never leaving the battered jungle shrinking beneath us. We were all quiet. No one spoke.
We were all running on adrenaline and fumes.
My body ached, my arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed me, but it was the tight coil of fear in my chest that hurt the most.
I had nowhere to go.
No home. No plan.
Except—
I closed my eyes briefly, forcing my breathing to slow.
There was a place.
An old ranch in Arizona, out in the middle of the desert.
We bought it under a fake name a month before my family died.
I went there when it happened, a broken version of myself hiding in the dust and silence.
No one knew about it—not the Agency, not my old contacts, not even my friends—the few who were still alive.
I hadn’t set foot there in six years.
But it was mine. And it was far away from all of this.
Cyclone’s voice cut into my spiraling thoughts. “We need a plan.”
I opened my eyes. He was watching me, his gaze steady but unreadable.
“I have somewhere,” I said quietly. “It’s old and run down, but it’s mine.”
He didn’t question it. Just nodded once.
“Arizona,” I added. “Desert. Nothing for miles.”
Tag leaned forward slightly. “You sure it’s still there?”
“No,” I admitted. “But it’s better than nowhere.”
The helicopter jolted again, and I gripped the straps harder.
Cyclone leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes for a brief moment.
“We’ll get there,” he said.
His voice was so certain, so grounded, that for the first time since this whole nightmare started, I almost believed him.
The pilot’s voice crackled through the radio. “Touchdown in fifteen. We’ll refuel, swap birds if needed, then move out.”
Fifteen minutes.
I pressed my head back against the vibrating wall of the helicopter and let the storm inside me settle.
For now, we had a destination.
For now, we had each other.
The helicopter touched down at a secluded airstrip cut into the jungle. It was little more than a patch of cleared earth and a hastily assembled fuel station, but it was enough.
We moved fast, the Golden Team securing the perimeter while the pilot and ground crew refueled the helicopter.
I stayed close to Cyclone, my instincts too raw, too battered to let me drift far from him.
He noticed. Of course he did.
“Almost there,” he said quietly, adjusting the strap of his gear.
I nodded, swallowing against the knot in my throat.
Once the fueling was complete, we climbed back aboard a fresh helicopter, one better suited for long-distance flight. The rotors roared to life, and soon we were airborne again, cutting across the endless stretch of jungle toward a safer airspace where we could transfer to a long-haul transport.
Cyclone shifted in his seat beside me, closer than before. His hand brushed against mine, a barely-there touch, and I found myself curling my fingers into a fist to keep from reaching back.
As we flew, he leaned in, his voice pitched low just for me.
“I’m not leaving you,” he said.
I turned to look at him, startled.
His jaw was set hard, his eyes fierce. “I don’t care if you like it or not, Jude. I’m not walking away until I know you’re safe.”
Emotion slammed into me, fierce and unrelenting. Do not shed a tear!
“Cyclone—”
He shook his head once. Final.
“You don’t have to say anything. Just know it’s not negotiable.”
I pressed my lips together, the words trapped behind everything I couldn’t let myself feel.
He had feelings for me. I could see it in his eyes, hear it in the rough edges of his voice.
But he wouldn’t say it.
And I wasn’t ready to hear it.
Not yet.
Instead, I leaned my shoulder lightly against his and closed my eyes, letting the steady thrum of the helicopter and the solid presence of Cyclone anchor me.
Arizona.
The ranch.
A new beginning?
Maybe.
But first, we had to survive the end.
The long-haul transport was quieter, steadier than the jungle helicopters, but the tension inside me never loosened. We were finally airborne, headed north, leaving behind the damp green chaos and flying into something else entirely.
Something mine.
Cyclone sat beside me, not touching, but close enough that I could feel his heat. I knew he was still on high alert, every muscle ready, every instinct sharp. It was a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed so badly. I’ve been taking care of myself for so long.
We were flying in a jet they rented. It was fast, and we rented another helicopter when we landed in California.
The Golden Team kept to themselves toward the rear of the cabin, giving us space. Maybe they sensed something brewing between Cyclone and me. Maybe they were just smart enough not to poke wounded wolves. Did they see my pain?
I pulled a crumpled map from my pack, the one I’d kept all these years, a relic of another life. Cyclone leaned in slightly to glance at it.
“How remote is it?” he asked.
“Remote enough. No paved roads. A few wells. One broken windmill.”
His mouth quirked up slightly at the corner. “Sounds charming.”
“It’s isolated,” I said. “That’s the point.”
For a while, we flew in silence, the hours stretching out, each mile putting distance between us and the nightmare behind.
At some point, Cyclone shifted, his voice low but firm.
“I’m going with you,” he said.
I stared out the small window, watching endless stretches of earth roll past beneath us.
“I’m not good at letting people in,” I admitted.
“I’m not good at walking away,” he said.
I turned to look at him, my throat tight.
“You don’t have to stay,” I said quietly.
Cyclone held my gaze, something fierce and unmovable behind his eyes.
“I told you. I’m not leaving until you’re safe.”
My heart twisted painfully, but I forced a small, wry smile.
“Stubborn.”
“Always.”
The pilot’s voice came over the speakers. “Approaching drop zone. Ten minutes.”
Cyclone reached over and squeezed my hand, just once, quick and firm, before pulling back.
“We’ll make it,” he said.
I held onto those words like a lifeline as the desert stretched out ahead of us, vast and wild and waiting.
For the first time in a long, long time, I dared to believe it.
Table of Contents
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- Page 14 (Reading here)
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