Jude

I dropped to a crouch beneath the window and breathed through the rush of adrenaline.

Don’t panic. Don’t freeze.

Assess. Decide. Move.

I hadn’t been field active in months, but the rhythm of it all—the process —was still carved into my bones like a scar.

I set the burner phone down and picked up my real one. Faster. Direct.

I tapped Cyclone’s contact and hit call .

He answered on the first ring. “Hey, you okay?”

“No,” I said quietly, already moving through the kitchen, keeping my body out of line with the windows. “There’s someone in the trees. Watching. I saw the lens.”

Silence for a heartbeat.

Then: “Where are you now?”

“Kitchen. Just spotted him through the window off the back deck. He’s tucked behind the brush, ten o’clock angle from the oak.”

“Armed?”

“Didn’t see a weapon. Just glass. Scope or camera, I can’t be sure.”

“I’m five minutes out,” he said. “Do not engage.”

“River’s here.”

Another pause. “Good. Stay inside. Lock the doors. I’m coming.”

“I’m not scared,” I said, my voice low, even.

“I know you’re not,” he replied, voice rough. “That’s what scares me. ”

The line went dead.

I moved to the side door, locked it, then crossed the house and did the same at the front. River reappeared a moment later, already holding his sidearm.

“Someone in the trees,” I said before he could ask. “I called Cyclone.”

River nodded once, already scanning the room, windows, and angles. “Good. We’ll wait him out. He gets close, we get eyes. He runs, we follow.”

I gripped the edge of the counter, grounding myself.

The old me would’ve already been out there, circling wide, moving quiet through the trees, getting the drop on the bastard before he even knew he was made.

But this wasn’t Syria.

And I wasn’t alone anymore.

I was part of something now.

Someone.

I took one breath.

Then another.

And when I looked up, River was watching me.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’m done running.”

He gave me a grim smile. “Good. ‘Cause I think he’s about to find out what a mistake it was to come here.”

River moved with lethal calm, his eyes sweeping every window and corner like he was cataloging vulnerabilities.

I knew that look.

It was the same one I used to wear before a breach.

“You think he’s still there?” I asked, nodding toward the back.

River checked his watch. “If he’s smart, he’s already gone. But something tells me he wants to be seen. Wants you to know he’s watching.”

My stomach twisted. “Why?”

River looked at me. Really looked. “Because sometimes the best way to break someone isn’t to shoot them—it’s to pull every thread until they unravel themselves.”

I swallowed. Hard.

He wasn’t wrong.

Psych ops 101.

Make them paranoid. Keep them on edge. Isolate them. Then strike.

But I wasn’t that girl anymore.

Not the one who disappeared in the desert and came back invisible. Not the one running through a jungle, trying to get away from the people wanting me dead.

No.

Not again.

“I’m not cracking,” I said. “He doesn’t get to have that.”

River arched a brow. “Didn’t think you would. But we both know this isn’t random. He didn’t follow you for weeks just to stare at your house.”

I nodded. “He wants something.”

“Yeah,” River said darkly. “And my bet? He’s about to ask for it.”

The floor creaked as we moved toward the back of the house. River stayed near the side wall, while I took position just inside the door. I kept low, listening. My ears tuned to the subtle shifts in the air outside.

Branches swayed.

A bird scattered.

Then silence.

“Anything?” I whispered.

River shook his head. “He’s quiet.”

Too quiet.

I moved toward the window again, this time slower, more deliberate.

And that’s when I saw it.

A scrap of white.

Tucked under a rock just outside the tree line.

My pulse kicked.

“There’s something out there,” I murmured.

River stepped beside me. Squinted. “Shit. That wasn’t there ten minutes ago.”

A note.

Left like a calling card.

“Don’t touch it,” he said quickly. “Cyclone’s almost here. He can—”

But I was already reaching for the door.

“Jude.”

“I’m not going far,” I said. “And I won’t touch it.”

He swore but followed me anyway, covering every angle as I crept barefoot across the deck, down the stairs, and across the damp grass.

The wind picked up as I knelt by the rock.

It was a torn scrap of paper. Clean edges. Typewritten.

The kind of message no one could trace.

I didn’t pick it up—I just leaned close enough to read.

Three words.

“You remember me.”

My breath caught.

Behind me, River swore again. “Get inside.”

I stood slowly, heart pounding, eyes scanning the trees.

But the shadows were empty now.

He was gone.

But he’d left enough behind.

And suddenly, I wasn’t just part of this anymore.

I was the center of it.