Chapter 11
Mia
The bed shifted. Through the window, the sky was still pure black—had to be somewhere around three or four in the morning.
I’d been drifting in that half-sleep state where nightmares and reality blur together, where every sound could be footsteps, where shadows press against my eyelids like physical weight. The movement beside me snapped me fully awake, muscles coiling tight before my brain caught up.
Coop was sliding out from under the rough blanket, each movement calculated to minimize sound. A ghost leaving a haunted bed.
I lay still, watching him pull on his boots with practiced silence, lacing them by feel in the dark. Found his jacket by memory. The man moved like liquid shadow, years of special operations training evident in every deliberate step.
“You awake?” His whisper barely disturbed the air.
“Yeah,” I whispered back. “Where are you going?”
He shifted closer to be sure the cameras didn’t pick up anything we were saying. “Need to transmit what I downloaded today. It’s important to get this out, no matter what.”
Meaning even if he and I didn’t get out. He didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to.
“Oliver has signal jammers throughout the compound,” he continued, voice so low I had to strain to hear. “But I think there’s a spot near the perimeter where I can punch through. Travis’s equipment can override their blocking if I get to the right position.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“No.” The word came fast, sharp despite the whisper. “Too dangerous. If I’m caught—”
“If you’re caught, we’re both dead anyway.”
His jaw tightened. I could see him running scenarios, calculating risks.
“It’s safer if you stay,” he tried again. “I can move faster alone—”
“And if someone checks on us? Finds me alone in bed?” I sat up, the blanket pooling around my waist, adjusting the shirt I’d been sleeping in—one of his, oversized and soft from wear.
“At least if we’re together, we have options.
You can say I had a panic attack, needed air, you took me for a walk. It fits the trauma they think I have.”
It felt like I was collecting traumas these days.
He stood motionless for a moment, and I could practically hear his tactical mind grinding through possibilities. He looked like he was going to argue, then finally his shoulders dropped slightly in surrender.
“Stay close. Do exactly what I say, when I say it.” The whispered words were a hiss as he moved to the door, listening, then turned back to me. “We’re going out the window. The door is exposed and undoubtedly being monitored. The trees give the window some coverage.”
“I’ll crumple up the bedding; make it look like we’re still in bed. As long as no one looks too close, it should be fine.”
The window stuck halfway, decades of paint and mountain weather having sealed it partially shut.
Coop worked it carefully, patient despite the time pressure, until it opened wide enough for us to slip through.
He went first, landing silent as smoke on the packed dirt below, then turned to help me down.
His hands on my waist were steady, lowering me until my feet touched ground. For a second, we stood like that, his palms warm through my shirt, close enough that his breath stirred my hair.
Then his hands dropped, and he was moving.
I followed him along the cabin’s shadow, placing my feet where his had been, matching his careful stride. The compound looked different at night—angles sharper, shadows deeper. Security lights created pools of harsh brightness that we skirted, keeping to the edges where darkness lived.
He moved with a fluidity that stole my breath. But it wasn’t just the physical grace—it was the tactical mastery behind every decision.
He tracked at least three guard positions simultaneously, adjusting our path before I even knew someone was there. When he froze, I learned to freeze too, trusting his instincts even when I sensed nothing wrong. Ten seconds later, a flashlight beam would sweep exactly where we’d been standing.
He wasn’t just moving through the darkness—he was reading it like a map only he could see, every shadow and sound providing intel that kept us alive.
We reached the tree line, and he held up a fist. Military hand signal for stop. My whole body went still while he studied something I couldn’t see, head tilted slightly, reading the night like text.
“Guard post, two o’clock,” he breathed. “He’ll turn away in fifteen seconds to check the north approach. We move then.”
How he knew that, I had no idea. But exactly fifteen seconds later, he touched my elbow and we ghosted across twenty yards of open ground, my pulse thundering in my ears. We reached the next cluster of trees just as boot steps crunched on gravel—the guard turning back.
We were deeper into the woods now, following some path only Coop could see. My eyes had adjusted to the dimness, but he navigated like he had night vision, avoiding roots and branches I didn’t notice until we’d passed them.
“Here,” he finally whispered, stopping at the base of a massive pine.
I looked up, squinting in the gloom. About fifteen feet up, barely visible against the trunk, was an old hunting structure—a deer blind nestled in the tree’s embrace.
“You found this, how?”
“I have detection equipment. Identifies gaps in electromagnetic fields, dead zones in their jamming coverage.” Coop tested the first rung of the ladder built into the tree trunk. “This spot is invisible to their electronic surveillance.”
We climbed carefully, the old wood creaking softly under our weight. The blind was bigger than it looked from below—maybe six feet square, with walls on three sides and a roof that had seen better decades. Leaves and pine needles covered the floor, and it smelled like rotting wood and animal musk.
Coop pulled out a device about the size of a smartphone but thicker, with an antenna that telescoped out. The screen glowed softly as it powered on, bathing his face in green light.
“Guy named Travis Hale made this,” he said, adjusting settings on the screen. “He works with Warrior Security. He’s a good friend and basically a tech genius. Sometimes I think the feds only wanted me to go undercover so they could get access to Travis’s toys.”
“Why didn’t they just recruit him?”
“Because Travis doesn’t leave his house. Ever.” He started the upload sequence. “Some kind of trauma from his CIA days. Built himself a compound that makes this place look amateur. Everything delivered, all meetings virtual. Like Batman, if Batman never left the cave.”
The device beeped softly. A progress bar appeared—uploading.
“I’m letting him know I have you with me. Need him working on extraction options, just in case.” Coop glanced at it, then started typing something one-handed. “Keep watch. Anyone comes from any direction, let me know.”
I positioned myself at the blind’s opening, scanning the woods while he worked behind me. The compound spread out below us—scattered lights marking buildings, the occasional flare of a cigarette showing guard positions.
From up here, Oliver’s impressive fortress looked smaller, less imposing. Just buildings in the woods where bad men played at revolution. Somehow that gave me a little bit of comfort.
“It’s going. Weapons inventory, financial records, personnel files,” he murmured. “All the data I pulled from Oliver’s system. Enough to—”
Something caught my attention below. I grabbed Coop’s shoulder, cutting him off. He went silent instantly, both of us straining to listen.
Voices carried through the night air, getting closer. Two men from the sound of it, their words becoming clearer with each step.
“—told you this was the wrong trail.” That was Tommy’s voice, young and complaining. “Nothing out here but trees and probably bears.”
“Oliver wants the perimeter checked.” The second voice was older, gravelly. Not familiar. “All of it. New people showing up means we keep our eyes peeled.”
My blood turned to slush in my veins. They were headed straight for our tree.
Coop killed the device’s screen, plunging us into blackness. His hand found mine, squeezing once. Stay calm. Stay quiet.
The footsteps got closer. Closer. They were directly under us now, Tommy still complaining about the cold, about the pointlessness of checking trees in the middle of the night.
“What’s that?” The older guard’s voice sharpened. “Up there.”
My lungs seized. They’d seen the blind.
“Old deer stand,” Tommy said after a pause. “Been here forever, according to Snake. Probably full of wasps.”
“We should check it.”
“You want to climb up there in the dark? Be my guest. I’m not getting stung just because Oliver’s paranoid.”
They stood there for what felt like hours but was probably thirty seconds. I didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. Coop’s hand in mine was the only thing keeping me anchored, keeping the panic at bay.
Finally, footsteps moved away, Tommy’s voice fading as he convinced the older guard to check the next section instead.
We stayed motionless for another full minute before Coop powered the device back on. The upload had continued in sleep mode—87% complete.
“Almost there,” he breathed.
The progress bar crept higher. 91%. 94%. 97%.
More voices, distant but carrying. Multiple guards now, spread out through the woods. They were doing a full sweep.
99%.
“They’re coming back,” I whispered, my throat tight. The voices were getting louder again, more organized. They’d finished their sectors and were converging.
100%.
The device chirped softly—transmission complete. Coop collapsed the antenna, shoving the device into his jacket just as flashlight beams cut through the trees below.
“Can’t go down,” he said, already moving. “Follow me.”
He climbed out onto a thick branch that reached toward a neighboring pine. My stomach plummeted as I realized what he intended.
“I can’t—”