“That’s not what I mean,” I say, pressing my forehead to his chest. “You got us out. You didn’t freeze. You didn’t go full martyr. You didn’t try to be a lone-wolf tragedy.”
His arms come around me, slow and tight, like he’s reminding himself I’m real. “Don’t give me credit for basic survival,” he mutters.
“Too late.”
He exhales against my hair. “We need Arrow,” he says.
“I know.”
We can’t use our usual encrypted channels without risking a trace from this location. So Knight pulls a cheap burner out of the duffel—one we bought three towns back at a gas station with a “no refunds” sign and a clerk who looked like he’d seen the end of the world and yawned.
Knight pops the battery in, thumbs flying. “Signal’s weak,” he murmurs.
“Welcome to murder-budget hospitality.”
He snorts, then dials.
One ring.
Two.
A coded tone.
Arrow picks up instantly. “Hey, you alive?” he asks.
His voice is calm, but I can hear the tension underneath it. Arrow calm is the kind that comes with a locked jaw and a plan already halfway to execution.
“We got hit,” Knight says.
A pause.
“What? How?”
“Four inside, at least a few outside,” Knight replies. “Suppressors. They knew the layout. Called me Hayes. We evacuated. Cabin’s compromised.”
“And now?”
Knight’s gaze flicks to me.
I give him a small nod.
“Temporary safe stop,” he says carefully. “Not staying past sunrise. We’re a moving target.”
Arrow exhales. “Fuck. You injured?”
“Bruised. Lark’s clean.”
“I’m not ‘clean,’” I mutter. “I’m furious.”
Knight’s mouth twitches.
Arrow must hear it because his voice softens a fraction.
“Good. Stay that way. It keeps you sharp.”
Knight pulls the phone a little closer. “There’s something else,” he says.
“What?”
