9. Hannah
Hannah
B ear Creek was the kind of town time forgot—one main street, a handful of side roads, and a diner that smells like burnt coffee and stubborn tradition. I slid into a cracked vinyl booth under buzzing fluorescent lights, my ankle screaming with every step. Caleb vanished to stash the ATV and the pack that held our entire world now.
The adrenaline had burned off. What remained was pain—throbbing behind my eyes, curling at the base of my skull. I breathed through it. Just a little longer. Just until we transferred the data.
When Caleb returned, he slid into the seat across from me, the backpack anchored between his boots. One hand stayed on the strap. His eyes swept the room—cataloging exits, threats. He looked like someone who didn’t belong in the quiet, even if the quiet had once been his.
"My colleague should be here soon," I said. "She landed in Missoula this morning."
He nodded once. "Too public for FireCore to try anything. For now."
A waitress—Betty, by the name tag—ambled over, coffeepot in hand. "You two look like you wrestled a bear. Hiking accident?"
I touched the bandage at my temple. "Something like that."
"Coffee?" She poured before we answered. "Breakfast special’s still on."
"Two," Caleb said. It almost sounded normal, the way he said it. Like we were just another couple passing through. "And water, please."
He nudged the mug toward me. "Drink. You need fluids."
I sipped automatically. The warmth grounded me.
"What happens after the handoff?" I asked.
"You go back to New York. File the case."
"And you?"
He hesitated. "I don’t know."
The sting was sharper than I expected.
"You could come with me," I said, before doubt could filter the offer. "Consulting expert. Full protection."
His reaction was subtle, a flicker of longing. A wall slamming back into place. Then the familiar mask.
"They’ll know where to find me. They already know too much."
"They’ll know either way. Your name is on everything. But you don’t have to do this alone anymore."
He didn’t answer, but his fingers turned beneath mine, lacing them together. A silent answer I didn’t press.
"I haven’t been in a city in years."
"You don’t have to live there. Just help us fight."
Our food arrived, and we ate in a silence that felt earned. Comfortable. For one moment, I let myself pretend this was just breakfast. That the backpack at our feet didn’t hold a lawsuit capable of cracking FireCore wide open.
The door chimed.
Zoe walked in—sleek, sharp, and already scanning. Her eyes locked on mine, then Caleb’s.
"Zoe Lin," I said. "Meet Caleb Hale."
She stopped. "The Caleb Hale? From the mercury report?"
Caleb shifted. "That was a long time ago."
"Not long enough to be forgotten."
She slid into the booth, already pulling out her laptop. "Let’s get this transferred."
Caleb pushed the backpack toward her. His fingers lingered on the strap—one last touch. One last tether.
"Password protocols are layered," he said.
"Walk me through them."
The next hour moved in quiet, professional rhythm. Caleb navigated files. Zoe encrypted and sorted. I flagged the data most urgent.
Zoe paused, brows lifting. "The wildlife data alone could trigger a federal investigation."
"Exactly why FireCore is chasing us," I said.
Caleb glanced at the window. His posture shifted.
"We need to go. Now."
Zoe didn’t flinch. "Car’s out back. Missoula hotel. Private floor. Security is tight."
"And medical?" I asked.
"Handled."
Betty returned with the check. Her voice dropped. "Back door. Two guys just walked in. Not locals."
Caleb peeked. "Truck?"
"Mining logo. Corporate types."
"Then we don’t wait."
Betty guided us through the kitchen. Caleb slipped something into her hand.
"Good luck, sweethearts," she said.
Zoe’s car idled behind the diner. Caleb helped me in. The backpack settled between us.
As we pulled away, he kept one eye on the mirror.
"Stay low," he said. "They’re looking for the ATV. Not a clean rental."
"That was fast."
"Small towns. Big ears."
Zoe drove like a scalpel—precise, no wasted motion. I leaned into Caleb. My body ached, but it was my heart that hurt more.
"Thank you," I whispered.
He squeezed my hand. "You were right. The truth deserves its day."
"Will you stay with the case? Help us?"
His eyes didn’t leave the mirror. "One step at a time. First, we get you safe."
Zoe glanced back. "Tail—two cars back. Same truck. They’re watching. No rush."
I followed her gaze, but they were easy to spot, not even trying to hide from us.
"Let them," she said. "The hotel’s secure."
But I saw it in Caleb’s shoulders. The coiled tension.
This wasn’t over.
The mountains faded behind us. The low hum of pavement replaced their silence.
But beside me, Caleb didn’t flinch.