Chapter 16 Jase
Jase
Location: Lower Ridge — Moving Fast
Time: Early Afternoon
We don’t speak for the first hundred yards.
Not because there’s nothing to say.
Because there’s too much.
Ford.
Helix.
Embedded assets.
And the fact that if Ford is involved—
This isn’t a hunt.
It’s containment.
“They’re not chasing us,” I say finally.
Mila keeps pace beside me.
Focused.
Sharp.
Dangerous as hell.
“No,” she agrees. “They’re steering us.”
Yeah.
Exactly.
I change direction without warning—cutting downhill instead of following the ridge.
She doesn’t question it.
That’s new.
I notice.
“They expect us to stay high,” I explain.
“They expect patterns,” she replies.
“So we break them.”
She glances at me.
A flicker of approval.
Small.
But there.
Mila
He’s adapting.
Fast.
Faster than most.
That should concern me.
It doesn’t.
“What’s the plan?” I ask.
“No plan.”
I blink.
“That’s not reassuring.”
“It’s effective.”
“…you’re unbelievable.”
“Yeah.”
We move through thicker brush now—harder terrain, less visibility.
Good for cover.
Bad for speed.
Worse for someone injured.
“You’re slowing down,” I say.
“I’m adjusting.”
“You’re bleeding again.”
“I’m managing.”
I stop.
Grab his arm.
Force him to face me.
“You don’t get to manage this,” I say quietly. “Not if you want to stay alive.”
His eyes lock onto mine.
Hard.
Unmoving.
Jase
She’s close.
Again.
Too close.
Again.
And I’m very aware of the fact that I don’t hate that.
Not even a little.
“You done?” I ask.
“No.”
Figures.
“You don’t get to push past this,” she continues. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
Because I’ve been doing exactly that for years.
Because it works.
Because it has to.
Her expression shifts.
Not frustration.
Not anger.
Something else.
Something quieter.
Stronger.
“Because I’m here now,” she says.
That—
That lands.
Mila
I didn’t mean to say that.
Not like that.
Not—
Out loud.
But I don’t take it back.
I don’t step away.
I don’t break eye contact.
“You’re not doing this alone anymore,” I add.
Quieter this time.
But just as certain.
Jase
Yeah.
That’s a problem.
Because part of me—
The part that’s been doing this too long—
Wants to shut that down.
Hard.
Immediately.
And the other part?
The one that showed up when she was pinned to the ground?
The one that didn’t hesitate?
That part—
Doesn’t want her going anywhere.
I step closer.
Before I think better of it.
Before I shut it down.
Before I—
Stop.
“You’re making that very difficult,” I say quietly.
Her breath catches.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Her hand slides to my side—
Careful.
Checking the bandage.
But it lingers.
Just a second too long.
“You’re reopening it,” she murmurs.
“I’ve had—”
“Don’t.”
I almost smile.
Almost.
“You worry too much,” I say.
“I don’t worry enough,” she counters.
“That’s not true.”
“No,” she says softly. “It’s just new.”
That—
That’s new.
She steps back slightly.
Just enough to think.
Never enough to fully leave.
“Ford,” I say. “You’ve crossed paths with him.”
Not a question.
Her expression shifts.
And this time—
She doesn’t hide it.
“…not directly,” she says.
“Indirectly,” I press.
A beat.
Then—
“I flagged something once,” she admits.
“What kind of something?”
Her gaze hardens.
“An anomaly in a transfer chain.”
Yeah.
That tracks.
“What happened?” I ask.
“They shut it down.”
“Fast?”
“Immediate.”
That’s not normal.
That’s control.
“And the file?” I ask.
Her jaw tightens.
“It disappeared.”
Jase
Yeah.
That’s not just oversight.
That’s involvement.
“You were on their radar,” I say.
Her lips press together.
“…I might still be.”
That explains a lot.
Too much.
A sharp crack echoes through the trees—
Closer than before.
Too close.
“Move,” I snap.
We take off again—faster now, pushing through the brush, cutting direction twice in under thirty seconds.
“They’re tightening again,” Mila says.
“Yeah.”
“They’re not guessing anymore.”
“No.”
Because Ford doesn’t guess.
He calculates.
Another shot—
Closer—
I grab her—pull her down behind a fallen tree just as bark explodes where she was standing.
“Stay down,” I growl.
“I was moving—”
“You were exposed.”
“So were you!”
“I’m not the target.”
That—
That was the wrong thing to say.
Mila
I go still.
Not because of the danger.
Because of him.
“You don’t get to say that,” I say quietly.
His eyes narrow.
“Say what?”
“That I matter more than you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You implied it.”
Silence.
Sharp.
Heavy.
“You’re not expendable,” I add.
“Neither are you.”
“I know that.”
“Do you?”
That—
That hits.
Because yes.
I do.
But hearing him say it?
Different.
A drone hum cuts through the air above us.
Low.
Mechanical.
Watching.
We both freeze.
Look up.
“…that’s new,” I whisper.
Jase
Yeah.
That’s very new.
And very bad.
“They’re not just tracking movement anymore,” I say.
“They’re scanning.”
“Heat signatures,” Mila confirms.
Which means—
Cover doesn’t matter.
Hiding doesn’t matter.
“They’ve escalated,” she says.
“No,” I reply.
Worse.
“They’ve locked us in.”
The drone circles once—
Then stops.
Right above us.
“They know exactly where we are.”