Chapter 8 Mila
Mila
Location: Forest — Deep Cover Shelter
Time: Night
We don’t make it far before the sky opens up.
Rain.
Cold. Heavy. relentless.
Perfect.
Because apparently this night wasn’t difficult enough.
“Great,” I mutter. “That’s exactly what we needed.”
“Helps cover our tracks,” Jase says beside me.
“Also helps us freeze to death.”
“Details.”
I glance at him.
He’s pale.
Not bad.
Not critical.
But not fine either.
His side is already soaking through again.
Not good.
Not even close.
“We need shelter,” I say.
“Already looking.”
Lightning flashes through the trees—bright, sharp, exposing everything for a split second.
And in that second—
I see it.
“There,” I say, pointing.
A structure.
Barely.
Half-collapsed.
Wood and stone.
Old.
Abandoned.
But still standing.
“Works,” Jase says.
We move.
Fast.
Because standing in the open in a storm while being hunted?
Not ideal.
The cabin is worse up close.
Roof partially intact.
Door hanging.
Inside—
Dark.
Cold.
Dry enough.
That’s all that matters.
We step in and shut the door as best we can behind us.
The storm hits harder outside.
Wind rattles the walls.
Rain pounds the roof.
And just like that—
We’re cut off.
No movement.
No escape.
No distractions.
Just—
Us.
I exhale slowly.
Trying to settle.
Trying to think.
Failing.
Because the second I look at him—
Everything shifts again.
“You’re bleeding,” I say.
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“I’m mentioning it again.”
He huffs a breath.
I step closer before he can argue.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
A beat.
Then—
He sits.
Good.
Progress.
I move in front of him again, hands already working—checking the bandage, pressing lightly.
He doesn’t flinch.
Doesn’t look away.
Just watches me.
And that—
That is a problem.
“Try not to get shot again,” I say.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Please do.”
Silence settles between us.
Thick.
Heavy.
Too quiet.
The storm outside fills the space.
But it’s not enough.
Not nearly enough.
Because I can still feel him.
Too close.
Always too close.
“…this is a bad idea…” I whisper under my breath.
“What is?” he asks.
I freeze.
Then—
“Nothing.”
He doesn’t buy it.
Of course he doesn’t.
He never does.
“You always talk to yourself when you’re lying?” he asks.
“I’m not lying.”
“You’re definitely lying.”
I glare at him.
He almost smiles.
Unbelievable.
I turn away.
Because if I don’t—
I might do something I shouldn’t.
Like remember exactly how this feels.
Being this close.
Being here.
With him.
Again.
Jase
She’s pacing.
That’s new.
Not frantic.
Not out of control.
Just—
Restless.
Like she’s trying to outrun something that isn’t outside.
“Sit down,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
“That’s my line.”
She stops.
Turns slowly.
And yeah—
There it is.
That edge.
That spark.
That thing that’s been building since the dock.
“You don’t get to tell me what to do,” she says.
“Seems like I already did.”
Her eyes narrow.
Dangerous.
Beautiful.
Absolutely not helpful.
“This,” she gestures between us, “is temporary.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Silence.
Neither of us believes that.
Not even a little.
She exhales sharply.
Runs a hand through her damp hair.
“Why are you here?” she asks suddenly.
Not tactical.
Not about the mission.
Something else.
I hold her gaze.
“Because you were there.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you’re getting.”
She studies me.
Long.
Too long.
Like she’s trying to figure something out.
Like she already knows.
“…this is exactly what I didn’t need…” she mutters.
“What?” I ask.
“You.”
I nod once.
“Yeah,” I say. “Same.”
It’s not.
Not even close.
Mila
I should stop this.
I should create distance.
I should remember everything that’s at stake.
Instead—
I step closer.
Not by accident.
Not forced.
A choice.
A bad one.
A very bad one.
But I do it anyway.
“Say it again,” I say softly.
His brow lifts slightly.
“What?”
“That you don’t want this,” I whisper.
His gaze drops.
Just for a second.
To my mouth.
Then back up.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Oh.
That was a mistake.
A big one.
“You don’t want this,” I repeat.
He stands.
Now we’re even closer.
No space.
No air.
No excuses.
“You really want me to say that?” he asks quietly.
My pulse spikes.
Traitor.
“Yes.”
Lie.
He knows it.
I know it.
We both ignore it.
“Fine,” he says.
A beat.
Then—
“I don’t want this.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
I swallow.
Hard.
His eyes track it.
Again.
Always.
“Liar,” I whisper.
That’s it.
That’s the line.
That’s the moment.
And then—
He moves.
Jase
I’m done pretending.
Done holding the line.
Done acting like this isn’t exactly where we’ve been headed since the second I saw her again.
She calls me a liar.
Yeah.
She’s not wrong.
I close the distance.
What little there is.
My hand comes up—fingers brushing her jaw, steady, certain.
She doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t stop me.
Just watches me.
Breath uneven.
Eyes dark.
Waiting.
That’s all it takes.
I kiss her.
Not soft.
Not careful.
Not controlled.
Everything I’ve been holding back since Prague—
Since the dock—
Since that moment in the dark when we almost—
It all hits at once.
She responds instantly.
Like she’s been waiting for it too.
Hands in my shirt again.
Pulling me closer.
Like distance is no longer an option.
Like it never was.
And for a second—
Everything else disappears.
The storm.
The hunters.
The list.
All of it.
Gone.
There’s just—
This.
Her.
Us.
And it’s—
Explosive.
Dangerous.
Exactly as bad an idea as we both knew it would be.
Which is probably why neither of us stops.