Chapter 17 Mila
Mila
Location: Forest Floor — Under Drone Surveillance
Time: Continuous
The hum doesn’t stop.
It hovers.
Patient.
Precise.
Watching.
“They’re scanning,” I whisper.
Jase doesn’t look up again.
He doesn’t need to.
“Yeah.”
“How long before they—”
“Already have.”
My stomach drops.
The drone shifts slightly overhead.
Adjusting.
Locking.
“They’re triangulating,” I say.
“Then we move before they finish.”
He grabs my hand again—
No hesitation now.
No argument.
Just action.
We run.
Jase
No cover.
No concealment.
Just speed.
And that’s not enough.
The drone tracks us easily—adjusting with every direction change, every shift in terrain.
Too smooth.
Too controlled.
“They’ve got thermal,” Mila says.
“I know.”
“Then running isn’t going to fix this.”
“No,” I agree.
“It’s not.”
I stop suddenly.
She almost runs into me.
“What are you—”
“We take it down.”
Mila
I blink.
Once.
Because—
Of course we are.
“With what?” I ask.
“You’ve got a sidearm.”
“That’s not built for aerial targets.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
He scans quickly—eyes moving, calculating.
Always calculating.
“There,” he says.
I follow his gaze—
A narrow clearing.
Minimal tree cover.
Open sky.
“You want to draw it in,” I realize.
“Yeah.”
“That’s risky.”
“Yeah.”
I almost smile.
Because that’s apparently our strategy now.
We move together without another word.
He steps into the clearing first.
Deliberate.
Exposed.
Drawing attention.
The drone reacts instantly—
Lowering.
Adjusting.
Locking onto him.
“Jase—” I start.
“Wait,” he says sharply.
He stands there.
Still.
Too still.
Too exposed.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“Trust me.”
That—
That is a dangerous thing to say.
Jase
Timing.
Everything comes down to timing.
The drone dips lower.
Closer.
Better angle.
More confident.
Almost—
Almost—
“Now.”
Mila
I move.
Fast.
Breaking from cover—angle sharp—weapon up—
One shot.
Miss.
Adjust.
Breathe.
Ignore everything except the target—
Second shot—
Impact.
The drone sparks—
Jerks sideways—
Still airborne.
“Again!” Jase snaps.
Third shot—
Direct hit.
The drone spirals—
Crashes hard into the trees—
Metal tearing—
Sparks flying—
Then—
Silence.
We both stand there for a second.
Breathing hard.
Processing.
“That worked,” I say.
“Yeah.”
I turn to him—
And that’s when I see it.
He’s swaying.
Mila
Oh no.
“You’re bleeding,” I say.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not—”
“I’m—”
He stops.
Because even he can’t finish that sentence.
Blood is soaking through the bandage now.
More than before.
Too much.
“You need to sit down,” I say.
“We need to move.”
“You’re not moving like this.”
“We don’t have a choice.”
I step closer.
Grab his vest.
Force him to look at me.
“Yes. We do.”
Jase
She’s not backing down.
Not this time.
Not at all.
“You keep pushing like this,” she says, voice low, steady, “and you’re going to collapse.”
“I won’t.”
“You don’t get to decide that.”
Yeah.
I’ve heard that before.
Recently.
“I need you upright,” she continues. “Not stubborn.”
That—
That almost makes me laugh.
Almost.
She softens.
Just slightly.
Enough.
“I’m not losing you out here,” she says quietly.
There it is.
Again.
That line.
That truth.
Something in my chest tightens.
Different than the pain.
“You’re not going to,” I say.
But it doesn’t come out as solid this time.
Not as controlled.
Because for the first time—
I’m not completely sure.
Mila
I hear it.
The shift.
The uncertainty.
And that scares me more than anything else today.
“Sit,” I say again.
Softer this time.
This time—
He listens.
I help him down behind a fallen tree.
Kneel in front of him.
Hands already moving—checking the wound, reinforcing pressure, working fast.
He watches me.
Not saying anything.
Not deflecting.
Not pushing.
“That was reckless,” I mutter.
“That was effective.”
“That was stupid.”
“That was necessary.”
I shake my head.
“…you’re impossible.”
“Yeah.”
A beat.
Then—
“…you still stayed.”
My hands pause.
Just for a second.
“That wasn’t a question,” I say quietly.
Jase
Yeah.
I know.
She finishes securing the bandage.
Careful.
Precise.
Close.
Too close.
“You could’ve run,” I say.
“You would’ve been safer.”
She looks up at me.
And there’s nothing guarded in her expression now.
Nothing hidden.
Nothing held back.
“I wasn’t leaving you.”
That—
That hits harder than anything else today.
A faint crackle comes from the wreckage of the drone.
Both of us freeze.
Turn.
“…that shouldn’t be doing that,” Mila says.
The broken drone sparks again—
Then—
A voice cuts through the static.
Distorted.
Cold.
Controlled.
“Asset confirmed.”
My blood runs cold.
“They’re not just watching us,” Mila whispers.
I don’t take my eyes off the drone.
“They’re listening.”