Page 32 of Echo: Line

Alex moves around the cave with practiced efficiency, checking sight lines, setting up a small fire near the entrance where the smoke will dissipate through cracks in the rock above. He pulls out one of the water bottles, takes a careful sip, then passes it to me.

"Drink," he says. "Stay hydrated."

The water is warm but I'm thirsty enough that I don't care. My stomach growls, reminding me I haven't eaten since yesterday, but there's nothing to do about that now.

"Is this what your life is like?" I ask. "Caves, always running, never stopping?"

"Sometimes. Other times it's worse." He almost smiles. "Echo Base has real beds. Kitchen. Running water. This is just... field operations."

"How long have you been doing field operations?"

"Eight years with Delta. Eight months running from the Committee." He caps the water bottle carefully. "You get used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it."

"Then we make sure Kane's plan works. Expose the Committee. End this." He stretches, winces when the movement pulls at his wound. "Get you back to something resembling normal life."

"Is that possible? After everything?"

"I don't know." Honest. Direct. "But it's worth trying."

The fire crackles between us, casting dancing shadows on the cave walls. Outside, full dark has fallen. The temperature drops steadily. My damp shirt makes me shiver.

Alex notices. Of course he notices. "Come here."

"What?"

"You're shivering. Damp clothes, dropping temperature. Hypothermia waiting to happen." He pats the ground next to him, closer to the fire. "Body heat. Basic survival."

I should argue. Maintain professional distance. But I'm cold and exhausted and he's right about hypothermia risk. So I move closer, sit next to him near the fire.

His arm comes around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. The warmth is immediate and overwhelming. He radiates heat like a furnace. The cold doesn't touch him. Neither does the injury.

"Better?" he asks.

"Yeah." I don't pull away. Can't. The exhaustion is catching up, dragging me down. "Thanks."

"Sleep if you need to. I'll keep watch."

"You need rest too."

"I'll rest when you're safe."

The words should be reassuring. Professional. But something in his tone makes them feel personal. Like he's not just talking about the mission.

His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear. Strong. Alive. This man who nearly died yesterday, who led me through wildernessfor hours today, who's offering his warmth and his protection like it's the most natural thing in the world.

My eyes drift closed despite my best efforts to stay alert. The fire, the warmth, the exhaustion—it all pulls me under.

The last thing I register is his hand moving to rest on my shoulder, holding me secure against him. Protective. Careful. Safe.

I wake to gray dawn light filtering through the cave entrance and the distant sound of rotors.

Alex is already moving, hand on his rifle, body tense. I'm on the ground—he must have laid me down at some point during the night, positioned me away from the entrance.

"What is it?" I whisper.

"Helicopter. Maybe two miles out, doing a search pattern." His voice is tight. "Not Echo Ridge. Committee."