“Hospital gets us killed.”
“Bleeding out gets us killed too.”
True. But Phoenix tracks medical records in real time. Walk into any ER in the D.C. Metro area, and tactical teams roll outbefore the triage nurse takes my vitals. Hospital means certain death. Blood loss means possible death.
I’ll take possible over certain every time.
“We wait,” I say. “Rest here until extraction.”
“Forty-eight hours?” Her voice climbs an octave. “You can’t lose blood for forty-eight hours. You’ll die.”
“Won’t lose blood if we get pressure on it.”
“That’s not—pressure bandages are temporary. This needs real medical attention.”
“Eliza.” Her name comes out rough, strained with pain and blood loss and the simple effort of staying conscious. “Phoenix finds us, we’re both dead. I lose a little blood, maybe I get weak. Maybe I pass out. But you’re still alive.”
“That’s not acceptable.”
“It’s the only option.”
“No.” She leans closer, green eyes blazing with the same fire I’ve seen when she decodes impossible puzzles or argues about linguistic theory. “It’s not the only option. We’re going to figure this out. Together.”
Together.
Not her followingmyorders, notmeprotecting her while she stays passive.Together, as partners, as equals.
As something more than operator and principal.
“How?” I ask.
“I don’t know yet.” She adjusts the pressure bandage, checking for fresh bleeding. “But you’re not dying on my watch. Not after everything we’ve been through. Not after what we discovered about Phoenix.”
The flash drive. Right. In all the blood and pain and tactical assessment, I almost forgot what she’s carrying. Phoenix’s entire financial infrastructure, hidden in the one place they never thought anyone would find.
“Thedata,” I say.
“Is safe.” She pats her chest, where the drive rests against her heart. “And it’s going to stay safe until we get it to your team. Both of us.”
Both of us. Not just her, extracted while I bleed out in some maintenance shed. Both of us, together, surviving whatever Phoenix throws at us next.
The idea shouldn’t comfort me as much as it does.
But blood loss makes everything softer around the edges, and the way she’s looking at me—determined, protective, fierce—makes me want to believe that together might actually be possible.
Even if the rational part of my brain knows better.
Even if tactical assessment suggests our survival odds are dropping with every minute we stay stationary, every minute Phoenix has to adapt its search protocols, every minute I lose blood I can’t afford to lose.
Even if everything logical says we’re fucked.
“Cooper.” Her voice brings me back from the edge of consciousness I didn’t realize I was approaching. “Stay with me. Don’t you dare check out on me now.”
“Not going anywhere.”
“Good.” She settles beside me, back against the concrete wall, close enough that her warmth cuts through the chill seeping into my bones. “Because we’re going to figure this out. And then we’re going to make Phoenix pay for what they did to Sarah, David, and Lisa.”
“And what they tried to do to you.”
