Gage:Knight’s probably already gone stir crazy. Cabin. Lark. This is his personal hell.
Arrow:He’ll crack before she does. My money’s on Lark being fine and Knight starting to alphabetize the canned goods by day three.
Ozzy:Please send pics.
I roll my eyes.
Knight:You children know I can see this, right?
Gage:Bro, you’re trapped in a small wooden box with my sister and zero distractions. Don’t pretend you’re not five seconds away from chewing through the door.
My fingers stutter.
I can imagine his voice too easily. Half-teasing, half-serious. Trusting me.
The guilt crawls higher.
I force a laugh into the text.
Knight:She’s been breaking into the pantry and insulting Ranger’s canned food choices. No one’s bored.
Arrow:Seriously, though. Any sign anyone followed you?
I switch back to mission mode.
Knight:No. I checked perimeters twice. No tire tracks, no footprints, no thermal signatures I couldn’t explain.
Dean:Good. Stay put. We’ve got people working angles on our end. You two keep your heads down and your signals minimal.
I almost ask what exactly “people” means. Which teams. How deep Maddox Security is going for this.
But the timer icon in the corner of the app flashes yellow.
One minute left.
Gage:Hey. For real. Thanks for getting her out.
My chest tightens again.
I stare at the cursor.
Then type, softer:
Knight:Always.
Arrow:Check in tonight if you can. If not, we’ll assume you’re alive until proven otherwise.
Ozzy:And if you die, I’m inheriting your tech.
Knight:Touch my rig and I haunt you.
Dean:Stay sharp, Hayes. If they’re hunting you, odds are they’re proud of themselves. People who are proud of themselves get sloppy. Use that.
The connection timer blinks red.
System:Connection closing in 10… 9… 8…
I fire off one last message.
