Chapter 40 Beckett
Beckett
The desert never stayed quiet for long.
Dawn bled slow and pale through the crack in the cave roof, turning shadows to gold. Elara was still pressed against me, her breath warm against my chest, her hand tangled in my shirt like she’d anchored herself there even in sleep. For one dangerous heartbeat, I let myself believe it would last.
Then I heard it—
Engines. Low. Crawling closer.
My body went rigid. In an instant, the tenderness vanished, replaced by the soldier in me that never truly slept.
“Elara.” My voice was low but sharp.
Her eyes snapped open, instincts razor-honed. She saw my face, then the tension in my grip, and she didn’t ask. She reached for her knife without a word.
The engines grew louder, more than one. Gravel shifted under heavy tires, the sound echoing across the ravine. Hydra.
They’d found us.
I snatched up my rifle, moving to the mouth of the cave, careful to stay hidden in shadow. A spotlight swept wide across the ravine floor, skimming closer, too damn close.
“They’re sweeping the gullies,” I muttered. “They’ll be on us in minutes.”
Elara slid beside me, eyes narrowed, braid falling loose over her shoulder. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t falter. Just looked at me with that same fire I’d seen in the convoy, in the desert, in her kiss.
“What’s the plan?” she whispered.
“Run,” I said. “And if we can’t…” I chambered a round, metal clacking sharp in the dawn. “…we fight.”
Her fingers brushed mine, quick and sure, grounding me for half a second before she turned back to the light cutting over the rocks.
“Together,” she said.
The engines roared closer, voices barking orders. Dust rose with the sunrise, choking the air.
I tightened my grip on the rifle, heart pounding with brutal certainty. Hydra had come to take her back.
And they’d have to kill me first.