Chapter 50 Mila
Mila
The storm fades to a low, steady rain.
The kind that lingers.
The kind that doesn’t let you forget what just passed through.
Inside the safehouse, Delta Five is already shifting into motion—packing gear, checking weapons, preparing for what comes next.
Zurich.
No one says it out loud again.
We don’t need to.
It’s there.
In every movement.
Every glance.
Every breath.
I step into one of the back rooms, needing a second—just one—to reset, to think, to breathe without the weight of everything pressing in.
The door clicks softly behind me.
Silence.
Finally.
I close my eyes for a second.
Just one.
But even then—
I feel him.
Before I hear him.
Before he speaks.
Jase.
“Running already?” his voice comes low from behind me.
I don’t turn right away.
“Just getting ahead of you,” I murmur.
A quiet huff of amusement.
Closer now.
“Not a chance.”
I open my eyes.
Turn.
And there he is.
Still bleeding.
Still injured.
Still standing like nothing could take him down.
It should annoy me.
It does.
But not enough.
“Shouldn’t you be sitting down?” I ask.
He shrugs slightly.
Regret flickers across his face for half a second.
Yeah.
That hurt.
Good.
“Shouldn’t you be,” he counters, “not carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders by yourself?”
I cross my arms.
“You’re one to talk.”
“Never said I wasn’t a hypocrite.”
That almost makes me smile.
Almost.
The room feels smaller now.
Or maybe it’s just the way he’s looking at me.
Like there’s nothing else in the world right now but this.
But us.
“You scared me back there,” I say quietly.
There.
I said it.
His expression shifts.
Softens.
Just enough.
“Yeah,” he admits. “You scared me too.”
My breath catches slightly.
Not because of the words.
Because of how easily he said them.
No armor.
No deflection.
Just truth.
The rain taps softly against the window.
Time slows.
Everything narrows.
“You can’t keep doing that,” I whisper. “Throwing yourself into things like you’re invincible.”
“I’m not,” he says.
I step closer.
Close enough to see the tension still etched into his face.
The exhaustion he’s trying to hide.
“Then stop acting like it.”
His eyes search mine.
And there’s something there.
Something deeper.
Stronger.
“You first,” he says quietly.
A beat.
Then—
I shake my head slightly.
“Not happening.”
“Didn’t think so.”
We’re close now.
Too close to pretend this is just about the mission.
Too close to ignore what’s been building between us since the beginning.
“You almost didn’t make it,” I say.
“You did,” he counters.
“That’s not the point.”
“It is to me.”
My breath stutters.
Just a little.
He notices.
Of course he does.
His hand lifts slowly—giving me time to pull away if I want to.
I don’t.
His fingers brush my jaw.
Gentle.
So different from everything else around us.
“You’re still here,” he murmurs.
“So are you.”
“Yeah.”
A pause.
Heavy.
Charged.
And then—
“I’m not losing you,” he says.
It’s not a promise.
It’s a decision.
Something in my chest tightens.
Because I believe him.
I shouldn’t.
But I do.
“You don’t get to decide that,” I whisper.
His thumb brushes lightly along my cheek.
“Watch me.”
That’s it.
That’s the moment everything breaks.
I close the distance.
This time, it’s me.
My hand grips his shirt, pulling him in as my lips meet his.
The kiss hits hard.
Not gentle.
Not hesitant.
Everything we’ve been holding back—fear, adrenaline, need—it all crashes together at once.
His arm wraps around me instantly, pulling me closer, like he’s anchoring himself just as much as I am.
My back presses lightly against the wall.
Not trapped.
Never trapped.
Just… held.
His breath is warm against mine, his touch firm but careful—like he’s balancing on the edge between control and losing it completely.
And I feel it.
That line.
That moment where we knew we had something special.
Something consuming.
But this—
This is enough.
This has to be enough.
For now.
I pull back just slightly, breath uneven.
His forehead rests against mine.
Neither of us moves.
Neither of us wants to.
“We’re about to walk into something worse than tonight,” I whisper.
“I know.”
“You could still walk away.”
A quiet pause.
Then—
“I would never walk away.”
My eyes close briefly.
Because that—
That hits harder than anything else.
A voice echoes faintly down the hall.
“Five minutes!”
Reality crashes back in.
Zurich.
Mission.
War.
I pull back fully this time.
Reluctantly.
His hand lingers at my waist for half a second longer before he lets go.
“Five minutes,” I repeat softly.
He nods.
But his eyes stay on mine.
And there’s something unspoken there.
Something solid.
Unshakable.
“Stay close,” he says.
A small smile finally breaks through.
“Not a chance I won’t.”
Yeah.
We’re definitely not done.