Page 9

Cyclone

W e ran until our legs screamed, the sounds of dogs and boots pounding through the jungle behind us. There was no time to think, only move.

“We won’t outrun them forever,” Jude gasped beside me.

“No,” I agreed, ripping my pack open and yanking out the compact radio unit I’d hidden there. It was old-school—less traceable that way.

I keyed it on. “Cyclone to Golden Team Base. Emergency pickup. Code Red. Two of us.”

Static.

“Golden Base copies. Give coordinates.” I was so glad to hear Oliver’s voice. Thank God they hadn’t left yet.

I rattled them off, glancing at Jude, who scanned the treeline like she expected death to step out of it.

“Estimated time of arrival is fifteen minutes,” his voice crackled. “Hold your ground.”

“We’ll be there,” I promised, killing the signal and jamming the radio back into my pack.

I turned to Jude. “Help’s coming. We just have to survive till then.”

Her eyes were determined. “Surviving’s what I do.”

We kept moving.

The cargo plane rattled and groaned as it climbed higher, cutting through thick cloud cover. Jude sat across from me on a bench, arms crossed, gaze distant. I kept my head tilted back against the wall, catching my breath, but my eyes never left her.

Golden Team members moved around us, quickly checking gear and weapons and giving us casual glances. River tossed us a bottle of water.

“Damn, Cyclone,” Tag said shaking his head. You scared the hell out of us. We would have been gone if you had called an hour later.”

I caught the bottle one-handed and gave him a look that shut him up fast, but not before a few of the others agreed we were indeed lucky.

“You two put on one hell of a show back there,” River said. “Whole squad on your heels, and you still made it look easy.”

“It wasn’t easy,” Jude said, her voice flat. “I’m glad Cyclone was with me, or I would be dead right now.”

Everyone quieted a little at that. Good. Let them feel it.

I twisted the cap off the bottle and took a long drink, keeping my focus on Jude. There was a tightness around her mouth, a haunted look she couldn’t quite hide.

She was running from something bigger than just the Syndicate. I could feel it in my bones.

The Blackdawn Syndicate—they were just the surface. Whatever Jude carried inside her, it ran deeper. Older.

And she hadn’t trusted me with it yet.

Maybe she never would.

The plane banked sharply, and Jude braced herself against the wall without a word. When the turbulence settled, I pushed off the bench and crossed the few steps to sit next to her.

“We’ll get you somewhere safe,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear.

Jude gave me a tired smile, small and broken at the edges. “Safe doesn’t exist anymore.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to promise her otherwise. But I’d seen too much of her world to lie to her.

Instead, I said, “Maybe not. But we buy time. We keep moving.”

For a long moment, she just stared at me like she wanted to believe me, but didn’t dare.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

I leaned back against the wall, arms folded loosely. “Yeah. I do.”

She looked away first, her fingers tightening around the strap of her pack. There were walls around her—thick, scarred walls built from grief and rage and loss.

I knew because I’d built some of the same ones.

But there was still a crack in hers. I could see it every time she looked at me, like she might drown and hated herself for it.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Fifteen minutes to drop point.”

I straightened, pulling my gear into my lap. Jude did the same, her movements quick, efficient. Professional.

We were soldiers again. Survivors.

But somewhere under the blood and bruises and lies, something had shifted between us.

I didn’t know where this road led.

But I knew I wasn’t letting her walk it alone.

Not this time.

Not ever again, if I could help it.