59. Russ
Russ
The transport is loud.
Not from chaos.
Not from gunfire.
Just engines.
Steady.
Constant.
The kind of noise that should mean things are under control.
Should.
Doesn’t quite feel like it yet.
I sit across from Clay, watching him.
Because someone has to.
He’s upright now.
Barely.
Back against the wall, arms folded like that, somehow makes him look stronger than he is.
It doesn’t.
“You’re supposed to be resting,” I tell him.
He doesn’t even open his eyes.
“I am resting.”
“You call that resting?”
“I’m not moving.”
“That’s not the same thing.”
His mouth twitches slightly.
Almost a smile.
Almost.
“I’m good,” he mutters.
Yeah.
I’ve heard that before.
I lean back slightly, not letting it go—but not pushing yet either.
Because I know that look.
I know exactly how far he’s going to take this.
And arguing now won’t change it.
We are all like that.
Across from him, Lucas shakes his head under his breath.
“He’s worse than usual,” he mutters.
“He almost died,” Miles adds.
Clay cracks one eye open at that.
“Didn’t,” he says.
“Close enough,” Miles shoots back.
Silence settles for a second.
Not tense.
Not sharp.
Just… tired.
That deep kind of exhaustion that comes after everything finally stops.
“They’re safe,” Lucas says quietly.
The words hang in the air.
Heavy.
Important.
Clay’s eyes close again.
His head tilts back slightly.
“Good,” he says.
Just that.
But it’s enough.
Because we all know what it cost to get there.
My gaze shifts across the transport—
Landing on Hannah.
She’s seated a few rows down.
Back straight.
Arms crossed.
Not looking at Clay.
Not once.
Yeah.
That’s a lie.
Because I’ve seen her glance over.
More than once.
Checking.
Tracking.
Making sure.
She catches me watching her.
Her expression doesn’t change.
Not even a little.
I almost smirk.
Because she can pretend all she wants—
That’s not just a doctor watching a patient.
Not anymore.
I let it go.
For now.
Because there are other things that matter too.
My gaze shifts again—
Landing on Olivia.
She’s seated beside me.
Quieter than before.
Not withdrawn.
Just… processing.
Healing.
Her hand rests near mine.
Not quite touching.
But close enough.
I close the distance.
Deliberate.
My fingers brush hers—
Then settle.
She doesn’t pull away.
Doesn’t hesitate.
Just turns her hand slightly—
Fitting into mine like it belongs there.
Yeah.
That feels right.
“You okay?” I ask quietly.
She glances up at me.
There’s still pain there.
Still exhaustion.
But something else too.
Something steadier.
“I will be,” she says.
Honest.
Not pretending.
I nod once.
“That’s enough.”
Her fingers tighten slightly around mine.
“I heard what they said,” she adds softly.
“About Clay.”
I don’t look away.
“He’s not out of it yet.”
“But he will be.”
Not a question.
A statement.
I study her for a second.
Then nod.
“Yeah,” I say. “He will.”
Because he has to.
Because we don’t leave people behind.
Not like that.
The transport shifts slightly, turbulence rolling through.
Nothing serious.
But enough to remind us—
We’re still not home.
Not yet.
“You always go back out there,” Olivia says quietly.
Not accusing.
Not uncertain.
Just… understanding.
I glance at her.
“Yeah.”
“And you will again.”
“Yeah.”
Silence.
Then—
“I’m not going to ask you not to.”
That gets my attention.
I turn fully toward her.
“Most people would.”
“I’m not most people. Because I do the same thing. I go where I’m needed.”
I don’t like it, but I know this is her work.
“I know,” I say.
She studies me for a second.
Then—
“Just don’t lie to me about it.”
That hits.
Because she knows.
She’s already figured it out.
“Don’t tell me you’re fine when you’re not,” she continues. “Don’t pretend it’s nothing.”
My jaw tightens slightly.
Because that’s exactly what we do.
What we’ve always done.
She sees it.
Of course she does.
“I can handle the truth,” she says quietly.
I hold her gaze.
Long enough that she knows I’m taking it seriously.
Then—
“Alright,” I say.
Simple.
But it means something.
Because I don’t say that lightly.
Her fingers tighten around mine again.
Just slightly.
Enough.
Across the transport, Clay shifts again.
Subtle.
But I see it.
Of course I do.
His breathing changes.
Tightens.
Not good.
Before I can move—
Hannah is already on her feet.
She crosses the distance in seconds.
“Don’t move,” she snaps, already checking him.
Clay exhales slowly.
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“I adjusted.”
“That’s called moving.”
Lucas snorts quietly.
Miles shakes his head.
I lean back slightly, watching the two of them.
Because there it is again.
That tension.
That spark.
That—
“You’re not cleared for anything,” Hannah says sharply.
“I’m sitting.”
“You’re pushing it.”
“I’m fine.”
She freezes for half a second.
Then leans in closer.
Close enough that only he can hear.
But I catch part of it anyway.
“Stop saying that.”
Not sharp this time.
Not angry.
Something else.
Something tighter.
Clay’s expression shifts slightly.
Just for a second.
Then—
“Working on it,” he mutters.
Hannah straightens.
Steps back.
But not far.
Never far.
I glance at Lucas.
He meets my eyes.
Raises a brow.
Yeah.
He sees it too.
Everyone does.
This?
This is going to get interesting.
Fast.
I settle back into my seat, still holding Olivia’s hand.
Watching the team.
Watching the dynamics shift.
Because we made it out.
We got them safe.
But the aftermath?
That’s where things start to change.
And something tells me—
We’re just getting started.