Page 17 of Rogue Hope (Hope Landing: New Recruits #4)

The pre-dawn air bit with mountain sharpness, thin and cold in Finn’s lungs as he crouched behind the granite outcropping.

Blackridge Secure Facility loomed ahead—a deceptively modest structure nestled against the mountainside, its true scale concealed by clever engineering and natural camouflage.

Only someone who knew what to look for would recognize the reinforced entry points, the disguised sensor arrays, the carefully positioned sight lines that eliminated blind approaches.

Beside him, Zara adjusted her weapons belt, movements precise but stiff. The flight from Hope Landing had been largely silent. Ronan and Griff bantered in the cockpit, but he and Zara chose stilted silence, pretending to focus on operational prep.

“Perimeter patrol passes this section every twelve minutes,” he whispered, scanning the treeline through thermal binoculars. “We have approximately nine minutes until the next sweep.”

Zara nodded, checking her watch. “And seven minutes during reset to reach the archive, locate the file, and get out.”

“Eight minutes to return to extraction point,” he added. “Total operation window: fifteen minutes.”

“Tight,” she observed, her voice controlled but strained.

He lowered the binoculars, studying her briefly. The thermal imaging had shown what his trained eye already suspected—her body temperature was slightly elevated. Combat-ready but operating under physiological stress.

“Terrain is steep for the first two hundred meters,” he said, adjusting the plan slightly without revealing his observation. “Then levels out near the maintenance access point.”

“Lead the way.”

They moved from cover, keeping low through the scrub pine and rocky terrain.

Finn set a brisk pace, navigating by memory as much as by the facility schematics they’d studied on the flight.

The route he’d chosen—a maintenance access corridor designed for emergency personnel—was the least monitored approach, but also the most physically demanding.

Behind him, Zara’s breathing grew more labored than the exertion warranted. He glanced back to find her falling behind, face set in determined concentration.

“Need to pick up the pace,” he murmured, concern masked as operational necessity. “Patrol approaches in seven minutes.”

“I’m aware,” she replied tersely, quickening her steps despite visible discomfort.

They reached a steep rock face that required a short climb. Finn scaled it easily, then turned to provide a hand up. Zara hesitated fractionally before accepting his assistance, her grip surprisingly weak as he pulled her up beside him.

“You good?” he asked quietly.

“Fine,” she replied, the curtness in her tone warning against further inquiry.

They continued along a narrow game trail, the facility growing closer with each carefully placed step. Finn’s internal clock counted down relentlessly—five minutes until patrol, twenty-three until system reset.

Zara stumbled on loose shale, catching herself before he could react. The momentary loss of composure seemed to frustrate her more than the misstep itself.

“Terrain gets easier ahead,” he offered neutrally.

“Not the issue,” she muttered, pressing forward.

A spike of impatience tightened his jaw. Whatever personal tension existed between them, the operational window was unforgiving. Every second of delay increased risk exponentially.

“Three minutes to patrol,” he reminded, perhaps more sharply than intended. “We need to reach the access point before they sweep this quadrant.”

She didn’t respond, just increased her pace with visible effort. They traversed another fifty meters before he noticed her right hand trembling as she checked her watch.

“We won’t make it at this rate,” he said, low and urgent. “What’s the holdup, Zara?”

“I’m moving as fast as I can.”

“Not fast enough.” The words escaped before he could temper them. “If you weren’t physically ready for this?—”

“I’m fine.”

“Clearly not.” Frustration edged his whisper. “Is this about trust? Because if you can’t compartmentalize personal history for fifteen minutes?—”

“I have lupus, Finn!”

The words burst between them like a flashbang—sudden, disorienting, leaving momentary blindness in their wake. He froze, the revelation hitting with physical force. His head spun wildly, grasping desperately at fragmented memories of the term. An autoimmune condition? Chronic? Painful? Dangerous?

Zara’s expression was one of clear horror, eyes wide and panicked, unmistakably regretting the confession. His chest tightened painfully. She’d obviously never intended him to know.

Her breath came rapid and shallow, her vulnerability slicing through him quicker than any knife.

She was exposed, emotionally raw, and he had no clue how to respond, what to say, or even how to help.

All he knew was the mission was still unfolding, their lives at stake, and now they were both off balance in the worst possible moment.

Echoes of approaching footsteps drew nearer, each step ratcheting up the urgency to move, to hide, to survive.

“Patrol incoming,” he whispered.

Zara made a small noise.

He met her gaze, seeing mirrored panic and vulnerability there, neither knowing what to do or say next as the footsteps grew closer.