Page 4

Jude

W aking up felt like swimming through fog.

Pain throbbed in my arm. My head was heavy. Something beeped softly nearby.

I peeled my eyes open and found myself in a white-walled room—clean, sterile. Medical equipment buzzed gently around me. A steady drip of IV fluid ticked into my veins.

And sitting across from me, arms folded, legs braced like he was preparing for battle—was Cyclone.

Oh. Crap.

His jaw was tight. His shirt was wrinkled. His eyes?

Pissed. Off.

“Hey,” I croaked.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me.”

There it was.

I tried to sit up, but my muscles screamed in protest. He was at my side instantly, adjusting the bed without looking at me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered.

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You got bit by a damn spider, almost died, and in the middle of all that, you decided to casually mention that you’re not actually a nun. ”

I winced. “So… you heard that?”

He leaned down until we were nose to nose. “ You lied to me. ”

I held his gaze. “You think I had a choice?”

“I think you could’ve told me before I dragged your unconscious body through a jungle while dodging tripwires and praying to every god I’ve never believed in.”

His voice was raw. Angry. But underneath it, there was something else.

Worried. Hurt.

I sighed, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t lie to hurt you. I was embedded. Deep. And I couldn’t risk exposure. Not even to you.”

“CIA?” he asked.

I hesitated.

He gave me a look.

“Yes,” I said finally. “I was tracking something bigger. The nuns gave me cover. I didn’t expect the mission to collapse. Or you.”

He laughed bitterly. “Right. I was the curveball.”

“No,” I said, quietly this time. “ You were the first person in years to make me feel human again. And that scared the hell out of me.”

Silence.

Then he stepped closer. His hands landed on either side of the bed, caging me in. His face was unreadable.

“You should’ve told me,” he said, voice low. “But I get it. I do. Still doesn’t change the fact that I nearly kissed you in the middle of a damn jungle thinking you were a nun. ”

I blinked. “I didn’t stop you.”

“You didn’t exactly correct me either.”

“You gonna complain about it?” I asked, breath catching.

He studied me, his eyes flicking to my lips. “No. I’m gonna fix it.”

And then—he kissed me.

It was hard, deep, like the jungle, where the lies and the danger had all built up into this one moment of finally .

My hand fisted in the front of his shirt. He pulled away just enough to whisper, “You’re still impossible.”

“You still smell like the jungle,” I whispered back.

He kissed me again anyway.

And that’s when I knew.

We were both already in too deep.

And neither one of us wanted out. I needed to get the hell away from here before they took me back. I have to stay hidden!

The stars overhead were beginning to fade into a dull gray when I pulled on my boots and carefully swung my bag over my shoulder.

The world was silent at this hour, even the campfires were reduced to low embers.

Cyclone was asleep just a few feet away, his face softened in a way she hadn’t seen before.

Her heart clenched. She couldn’t believe that she had only known him for two weeks. It felt like a lifetime.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, though I knew he wouldn’t hear me.

She tucked the note under his hand, where he would be sure to find it. A simple, hastily scribbled message:

Cyclone, Thank you for everything. I have to do this on my own. Maybe I’ll see you again. Stay safe.

I hesitated longer than I should have, drinking in the sight of him one last time. Then, steeling myself, I turned and disappeared into the night.

I woke with the sun warming my face, a small smile playing on my lips as I remembered the night before. But when I reached out, expecting to find Jude nearby, there was nothing but an empty space.

Confused, I sat up, and the note fluttered to the ground.

My hands shook slightly as I picked it up and read her words. The smile faded. Anger, raw and sudden, flashed through me. I crushed the note in his fist. “Damn it Jude are you trying to get yourself killed?”I muttered.

I stood abruptly, scanning the horizon as if I might catch a glimpse of her silhouette. Nothing. Just endless miles of wilderness.

A part of me wanted to be furious—to let her go, to move on. She’d made her choice. She was used to running.

But I wasn’t the kind of man to walk away from someone who needed me.

“You won’t do this alone,” I said under my breath, a vow to the empty air.

I looked at Faron. “I have to find her before she gets herself killed. I’ll see you at home in a few days.”

“You be careful. Don’t take unnecessary risks with your life.”

“I won’t,” I said.

I strapped on my gear, tightened my boots, and set off, determination in every step.

I would find her. I would help her.

Even if she didn’t know she needed me yet. Then I would go home.