Page 108 of Hide From Me

Just like that.

My ears ring as I remain frozen, but Jon is already up and moving fast. Before I can process his movement, his blade is out, slicing through the zip ties on the hostages. His voice is steady and clipped: “Clear.”

I let out a breath, tossing my head back and kneeling behind the counter, my hand clamped over my shoulder. Blood seeps through my glove, sticky and hot, but I barely register the pain anymore. My focus is on Jon—on the precise, practiced way his hands move and the way his night-vision goggles hang lopsided around his neck, abandoned. There's a glint of something stormy in his eyes, barely visible through the chaos.

A fucking superhero. Not a monster.

“Mission almost accomplished,” he barks, his tone shifting back to steel. “Delilah, call for evac. Time to get the hell out of here.”

Delilah’s voice cuts in a minute later, breathless yet controlled. “Move fast. We’ve got heat signatures swarming the perimeter—company’s coming, and they don’t look friendly.”

I can feel it in my ribs—the rush of time speeding up, every second suddenly sharper and deadlier.

Jon yanks the second hostage to their feet as if they are weightless. “King, take point. Monster—rear. We move.”

We push out the way we came, back through the stairwell that smells like mildew and remnants of war. Every step echoes with a drumbeat of dread as water drips from unseen cracks, mingling with the metallic tang of blood and gun oil. My boots slide slightly on something wet; it could be whatever's falling from the ceiling, or it could be worse. I don’t care enough to look down and check.

The roof hits us like a slap—cold wind howling, and clouds swirl like ink spilling across the sky, making one of the victims cry out.

Delilah is crouched behind an HVAC unit, her eyes locked onto the horizon, rifle tracking movement that we haven’t yet seen.

“We’ve got four minutes before they’re on us,” she says, urgency pulling at the edges of her voice as she jerks her chin toward the evac chopper that crests into view, slicing through the air like a blade. Its lights are faint under the cloud cover, almost ghostly. Distant thunder growls like something awakening.

One of the hostages stumbles, but King is already there, wrapping an arm around them and hauling them toward the rope as soon as it drops, clipping them in as if he’s done this a thousand times. I suppose he’s not a monster either, but he’s not—

Jon is with the second hostage in an instant, strapping them in, but his eyes flick toward the far edge of the rooftop. There’s movement—shadows shifting.

Flashlights. Gleaming barrels. Figures spreading out.

“Delilah, cover the northwest! King, take the lead with the first package!” Jon shouts.

The rope hums as the first hostage ascends, a faint scream trailing after them, swallowed by the wind and distance.

Jon turns back, and I follow his gaze as it shifts to the last rope and then to the flood of hostiles gathering below.

“Jon!” Delilah yells just as Jon opens his mouth.

“I’ll stay,”

Just like that.

As if it’s already decided.

It’s not, though. It’s not just his decision anymore, whether he knows it or not.

Raylen was right. I deserve more. I deserve to be selfish. I deserve to be happy.

He doesn't get to take that away when I just found him.

“No,” I snap, too loud and too raw.

The way he turns is too slow, too controlled. Here I am again, barking orders at a superior as if I have no common sense, but at least I always do it for the right reasons.

“They’ll be on us before the second bird gets here. Someone has to hold them off while you get the rest out. That’s my call.”

The minute those words leave his mouth, I see him for what he is. Not just the mission leader. Not just the soldier forged in fire. But the man who once held something fragile in his hands and refused to run. He let it shatter because he thought it was the right choice, and he’s lived with that decision ever since.

I see him as proof.