Chapter 13 Mila
Mila
Location: Forest Ridge — Split Point
Time: Late Morning
We shouldn’t split up.
That’s the first rule.
The only rule.
And somehow—
We’re already breaking it.
“Go,” Jase says, low and sharp. “I’ll draw them off.”
“No.”
Not happening.
Not even a little.
“You’re slower right now,” I fire back. “Which means that plan is terrible.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I don’t like plans that involve you bleeding out in the woods.”
His jaw tightens.
“Then keep up.”
Gunfire cracks again—closer this time.
Too close.
We’re out of time.
He grabs my arm—pulls me in just enough to make sure I’m listening.
“Listen to me,” he says, voice dropping. “They want you.”
My chest tightens.
“I noticed.”
“That means I’m expendable.”
“No,” I snap. “It means you’re an idiot.”
A flicker of something crosses his face.
Fast.
Gone.
“Ridge line,” he says. “North side. Ten minutes.”
“You better be there.”
“I will.”
Not good enough.
Not even close.
Another round tears through the trees.
We move.
Opposite directions.
And the second I lose sight of him—
I hate it.
I hate it more than I should.
Jase
I wait three seconds.
Then I move.
Not away from her.
Toward the threat.
Always toward the threat.
I fire twice—draw attention—shift position.
They take the bait.
Good.
That’s the plan.
But something feels—
Off.
Too clean.
Too predictable.
Like they knew exactly how this would play out.
I drop one.
Then another.
But there’s still too many.
Always too many.
And then—
I hear it.
A shout.
Not mine.
Not one of theirs.
Mila.
Everything in me locks.
Focus narrows.
Control snaps tight—
Then breaks.
Mila
I knew better.
I knew better.
The second I crested the ridge, I felt it.
Too open.
Too quiet.
Too—
Late.
A man steps out from behind a tree.
Gun already up.
Too close.
Too fast.
I pivot—fire—
Miss.
He lunges.
Knocks the weapon from my hand.
We hit the ground hard.
Air slams out of my lungs—
I twist, trying to get leverage—
He’s stronger.
Bigger.
Closer.
Too close.
His hand closes around my wrist, slamming it into the dirt.
“Got you,” he snarls.
My pulse spikes—
Not fear.
Calculation.
Always calculation.
I shift my weight—drive my knee up—
He blocks it.
Of course he does.
Professional.
Trained.
Not just a hired gun.
Something else.
“You’re worth a lot of trouble,” he says.
My stomach drops.
Not random.
Never random.
“Who sent you?” I demand.
He smiles.
Cold.
Knowing.
“You already know.”
No.
No, I don’t.
And I hate that.
His grip tightens.
Pain shoots up my arm—
I go still.
Just for a second.
Just enough—
To make him think I’ve given up.
Mistake.
His.
I twist hard—break the angle—reach for the knife at my boot—
Almost—
Almost—
A shot cracks.
Close.
Deafening.
The man above me jerks.
Then stills.
Jase
I don’t remember crossing the distance.
I don’t remember deciding to move.
One second—
I hear her.
The next—
I’m there.
Gun up.
Trigger pulled.
Target down.
No hesitation.
No warning.
No mercy.
He collapses beside her.
Too close.
Still too close.
I grab him—rip him away from her—throw him aside like he weighs nothing.
“Are you hurt?” I demand.
She stares up at me.
Breathing hard.
Eyes wide—
Not scared.
Not weak.
Just—
Shaken.
“I’m fine,” she says.
Liar.
I drop to one knee beside her, checking her arms, her shoulders—
Too rough.
Too fast.
Too—
Personal.
“He had you pinned,” I say, voice tight.
“I had a plan.”
“You were seconds from losing.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Silence.
Sharp.
Charged.
She glares at me.
Furious.
Alive.
Thank God.
“I told you to stay on the ridge,” I snap.
“I told you splitting up was a bad idea.”
“You didn’t argue hard enough.”
That—
That actually stops her.
For half a second.
Then—
“…you’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah.”
But I’m still here.
And so is she.
That’s what matters.
Mila
He’s furious.
Not controlled.
Not calm.
Furious.
And that—
That’s new.
“You don’t get to yell at me,” I say.
“I absolutely do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“You almost got yourself killed.”
“So did you!”
“I wasn’t pinned to the ground.”
My breath catches.
Not because of the words.
Because of the way he said them.
Like—
Like that mattered more.
“You don’t get to decide what I can handle,” I say, quieter now.
“I get to decide what risks I take.”
His jaw tightens.
“You’re not a risk.”
That—
That lands harder than it should.
“You don’t get to say that either.”
“I just did.”
Silence stretches between us.
Heavy.
Different.
And then—
I see it.
The man.
The one Jase shot.
Something about him—
Wrong.
Familiar.
I move past Jase, crouching beside the body.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“Looking.”
“For what?”
“Answers.”
I roll the man slightly—
And there it is.
A mark.
Small.
Barely visible.
Behind his ear.
Ink.
Precise.
Intentional.
My blood runs cold.
“…no way…”
“What?” Jase asks, already alert again.
I lean closer.
Heart pounding.
Because I know this.
I’ve seen this before.
Not in the field.
Not on a target.
In a file.
Secure.
Restricted.
Buried.
I look up at him.
And this time—
There’s no doubt.
“They’re not just inside,” I say.
His expression darkens.
“Yeah, we established that.”
I shake my head.
“No.”
Worse.
Much worse.
“They’re Tier-One adjacent.”
Silence.
Then—
“That’s not possible,” he says.
“It is if someone opened the door for them.”
His gaze sharpens.
Dangerous.
Focused.
“Who?” he asks.
I hesitate.
Just for a second.
Because saying it—
Changes everything.
“…someone with clearance to both sides,” I say quietly.
His eyes lock onto mine.
And we both reach the same conclusion at the same time.
Not just a leak.
Not just a mole.
A bridge.