Page 8

Jude

W e burst from the shack, sprinting into the gray light of morning. My muscles screamed in protest, but I pushed harder, Cyclone beside me. Neither of us mentioned last night, but if I were truthful, I could have made love all day today.

If he had asked, I would have said yes. He makes me feel special when his hands explore my body, and his lips follow his hands.

Then we heard them. The noise grew louder, closer—a frenzy of sound. We didn’t dare look back.

Down the ravine, across jagged rocks slick with dew, through the twisting scrub. Every heartbeat was a countdown.

“There!” Cyclone pointed to a narrow crevice between two boulders up ahead. “We can lose them!”

I didn’t hesitate. He put me in front of him, slipping into the narrow space just as the first of the pursuers crested the ridge behind us.

Gunshots rang out, bullets sparking against stone.

“Keep moving!” he yelled.

We squeezed through the crevice, emerging onto a hidden game trail that wound deeper into the cliffs. Above them, the searchers’ shouts echoed in frustration.

For now, we’d slipped the noose.

We didn’t slow down until the sounds of pursuit faded behind us. Even then, we kept moving, deeper into the wilderness. I wasn’t taking any chances.

Hours later, when our legs could no longer carry us, we found another hollow—a shallow cave hidden by brush. Cyclone scanned the area carefully before motioning me inside.

We collapsed onto the dirt floor, breathing hard, covered in dust and sweat.

I leaned back against the stone wall, momentarily closing my eyes. When I opened them, he was watching me.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice rough.

I nodded. “Yeah. You?”

“Still breathing,” Cyclone said with a faint, exhausted smile.

Silence fell again, heavy but not uncomfortable.

For now, we were safe.

But both of us knew it wouldn’t last long.

Not in my world. The world I created with my government pushing me to find more information, constantly more and more.

Until I was hunted like an animal, and my government disappeared when I needed them the most. Not with what chased me, the men hunting me were pure evil, and one of our senators called the shots.

Cyclone

As night settled in, the fire between us was a mere flicker. Jude sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, her eyes distant. I leaned back against the stone wall, my gaze fixed on the flames.

“Do you ever think about the past?” Jude asked quietly, her voice so soft it almost got lost in the crackle of the fire.

I was silent for a moment. “Sure. Don’t you?”

“I used to,” she said. “But it got too painful.”

I turned my head to look at her, the firelight casting shadows across her face. “What do you think about now?”

Jude hesitated, then shook her head. “Tomorrow. Only tomorrow.”

I nodded slowly. “That’s enough.” I hoped one day she might tell me about all the pain she carried in her heart.

For a long while, neither of us spoke. The quiet wrapped around us like a fragile blanket. At that moment, there was no chase, no blood on our hands, and no scars we couldn’t outrun.

Just two people who shared something for one night.

Jude laid her head against the wall and closed her eyes, exhaustion pulling at her. I could see she was thinking about things that upset her. I walked over and put my arm around her.

Jude didn’t resist it.

Not tonight.

Tomorrow, they’d run again.

But tonight, we could simply be friends.

The night deepened, and the fire dwindled to glowing embers. The air turned colder, creeping into her bones. Jude shifted closer without thinking, drawn to my steady warmth.

I noticed but said nothing, only shifted slightly to make room.

Minutes passed—maybe hours.

I knew when she woke up, she jerked, like she was scared to breathe.

Jude finally spoke, her voice barely a breath. “I’m scared.”

I looked at her, my expression open, raw in the dim light. “Me too.”

It was the simplest, truest thing I could have said.

Jude leaned her forehead against my shoulder. For the first time since I met her, she let the fear show. Not hidden behind anger and not buried under survival.

“We’ll get through it,” I murmured, my hand moving to the back of her head, steady and sure. “One way or another, we’ll get out of here.”

She closed her eyes, and let herself believe me, just for tonight.

In the deep quiet of the wilderness, one broken soul and a protector leaned on each other, not as warriors, not as fugitives—but as something far rarer.

Humans.

And for the first time in a long, brutal journey, Jude let herself fall back to sleep not alone, but safe.