Chapter 10
DELANEY
Dawn breaks cold and gray through the pine canopy.
My legs burn with every step. Hours of hiking through wilderness, following Alex's lead as he navigates terrain that all looks the same to me but apparently tells him exactly where we are.
He moves with the confidence of someone who's done this a thousand times—checking angles, reading the forest, keeping us on pace for the extraction point.
LZ Delta—landing zone Delta. Military speak for somewhere Kane can land a helicopter and pull us out, but pull us out to what exactly?
The question has been circling through my head since we left the cave. Since that moment in the darkness when Alex couldn't answer whether he wanted me to disappear. Since the radio interrupted what might have been—
Don't think about that. Focus on the immediate problem. Except the immediate problem is the rest of my life.
Last week I was FBI. I had a condo in Alexandria, a career trajectory, a life that made sense even if it wasn't particularly exciting. Now I'm a fugitive with a service weapon and no badge, following a former, disgraced Delta Force operator through Montana wilderness while helicopters hunt us.
And when we reach that extraction point, Kane will offer me witness protection. A new name. A new city. A quiet life somewhere the Committee can't find me.
Safe. Hidden. Dead in every way that matters.
I watch Alex move ahead of me, rifle ready, every movement controlled and efficient. He survived eight months alone. Built a life with Echo Ridge. Found purpose after losing everything.
What will I find? An apartment in Phoenix or Portland or Pittsburgh? A job filing insurance claims under a name that isn't mine? Years of looking over my shoulder, never trusting anyone, never using the skills I spent years developing?
"Stop," Alex says quietly, hand coming up.
I freeze. He tilts his head, listening to something I can't hear. Then he relaxes slightly and waves me forward.
"Just deer," he says when I reach him. "But stay alert. We're getting close to the LZ."
"How close?"
"Half mile. We're early—extraction's not for another thirty minutes. We'll find overwatch position, make sure it's clear before we move in."
Professional. Tactical. Like he's done this a hundred times.
"Alex." My voice stops him. "What happens after Kane extracts us?"
He doesn't turn around. "Tommy sets you up with new identity. Relocates you somewhere off the Committee's radar. You start over."
"And you go back to Echo Ridge."
"Yeah."
"To keep fighting."
"That's the mission."
I should let it go. Should accept the gift of survival and disappear like he's suggesting. But watching his back as he scouts ahead, remembering how he positioned himself between me and every threat since we left that facility—
I don't want to disappear.
"What if I don't run?" The words come out before I can reconsider. "What if I help you prove the truth?"
Now he turns. Looks at me like I've suggested jumping off a cliff. "You're not an operator. You're FBI. This isn't your war."
"They made it my war when they tried to kill me." I move closer, keeping my voice low. "And I have resources you don't. FBI access that hasn't been revoked yet. Profiling skills. Evidence protocols. I know how federal investigations work from the inside."
"You'd be a target. Permanently."
"I'm already a target."
"At Echo Ridge, it's worse. We operate in hostile territory constantly. No backup. No extraction if things go wrong." His jaw tightens. "People die, Delaney. Good people who knew the risks and took them anyway."
"Then teach me. Train me. Whatever it takes."
He's quiet for a long moment, studying my face like he's searching for something. Doubt, maybe. Fear. A reason to say no.
"Why?" he finally asks. "Why not take the out? Start fresh somewhere safe?"
"Because safe isn't living." The words come out stronger than I expected.
"I've spent eight years following rules that turned out to be written by people who wanted me dead.
When I shot at those Committee operators to save you, something shifted.
I stopped being someone who observes and profiles violence and became someone capable of committing it for the right reasons. "
"That doesn't mean—"
"I'm not finished." I move closer, needing him to understand. "Watching you move through this forest, protecting me at every turn despite your own injuries—I understand now what loyalty looks like. Real loyalty. The kind you can't fake or train into someone. And I want to be part of that."
He's quiet for a long moment. "You want to be part of what? A team that lives in caves and runs from helicopters? A mission that gets good people killed?"
"I want to be part of something that matters. Something real."
"This isn't a movie, Delaney. You don't just decide to become an operator because you had a bad week at your job."
"A bad week?" The anger surprises me. "When I helped you escape, when I chose the truth over orders, they made me a target. They tried to kill me. Tried to put a bullet in my back without hesitation. That's not a bad week. That's being shown who the real enemy is."
"Which is exactly why you should take the out," he says. "Start over. Live a normal life."
"There is no normal life after this. You know that." I hold his gaze. "I can either hide and look over my shoulder forever, or I can fight back. And I'd rather fight."
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"Then tell me. Make me understand why I should disappear instead of helping you finish this."
He runs a hand through his hair, frustration clear in every line of his body.
"Because you'll become what I am. Someone who can't go home.
Can't have normal relationships. Can't stop looking for threats in every room you enter.
You'll lose pieces of yourself until you forget what normal even felt like. "
"And you think witness protection is different?" I challenge. "A fake name in a city where I don't know anyone? Never using my skills again? Always wondering if the Committee would find me? That's not preserving who I am. That's killing who I am slowly instead of all at once."
"At least you'd be alive."
"Alive isn't the same as living. You said that yourself last night."
He opens his mouth. Closes it. I've caught him with his own words.
"You'd be a target. Permanently."
"You said that too. But the fact it, I'm already a target.
At least this way I'm a target who's fighting back.
" I step closer. "And you know I'm right.
Tactically. You need someone with my background.
Someone who understands how the Bureau thinks, how they operate.
Someone who can help you stay ahead of them. "
Something shifts in his expression. The operator calculating odds, weighing assets.
"It's Kane's call," he finally says.
"But what's your call?" I press. "Do you want me to disappear? Or do you want me at your six?"
He holds my gaze for a long moment. Then, so quietly I almost miss it: "I want you alive."
"Then help me survive by teaching me to fight. Not by hiding me away where I'll always be looking over my shoulder."
He nods once, the decision made. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"But Delaney?" He holds my gaze. "This means no going back. You say yes to this, you're all in. No half measures. No second thoughts when it gets hard."
"I know."
He looks at me for another beat, then turns and continues toward the extraction point.
My heart hammers against my ribs. Not from fear. From the sudden certainty that I just made the most important decision of my life.
And I don't regret it.
We move through dense tree cover for another fifteen minutes. The terrain slopes downward, opening into a small clearing maybe a hundred meters across. Natural LZ—flat enough for a helicopter, surrounded by forest that provides approach cover.
Alex stops at the tree line, staying in shadow. Checks his watch. "Twenty minutes early. Good."
He pulls out the radio, voice low. "Wolf to Shepherd. At LZ Delta. Area appears clear. Confirm approach time."
Static. Then Tommy's voice, distorted by encryption. "Shepherd copies. Hawk inbound. ETA eighteen minutes."
"Copy. Standing by."
Alex clips the radio back to his belt, then settles into a position where he can watch the clearing. I move beside him, checking my pistol out of habit. Fifteen rounds. Hasn't changed since the last time I checked, but the ritual is grounding.
"You're nervous," Alex observes.
"Would you believe me if I said no?"
"No."
Fair. My hands are steady, but my pulse is elevated. The professional part of my brain recognizes it as pre-action adrenaline—the body preparing for potential threat. The rest of me just wants to get on that helicopter and collapse.
"It's normal," he adds. "The waiting is always worse than the action."
"How do you deal with it?"
"Compartmentalize. Think about the mission. Control what you can control." He glances at me. "Or in your case, think about what you'll say to Kane to convince him you're not insane for volunteering to join Echo Ridge."
"You think he'll say no?"
"I think he'll test you. Push hard to see if you break. That's what he did with me."
"What did he do?"
Alex is quiet for a moment. "Made me prove I could trust again. That I wouldn't compromise the team. That I was capable of more than just survival." He shifts position slightly. "It wasn't easy."
"But you passed."
"Eventually."
The clearing remains empty. Birds call from the surrounding trees. Normal forest sounds. Nothing to indicate threat.
But something feels wrong.
The birds stop singing.
Alex tenses. "Get down. Now."
I drop to the ground an instant before the clearing erupts with gunfire.
The sound is deafening—overlapping reports, the whistle of rounds passing too close, the meaty thunk of bullets hitting trees. Bark explodes. Pine needles rain down. The air fills with the acrid stink of cordite.