"Getting practice." I tie off the bandage. "Too much practice."
"Welcome to convoy life."
Eric and Patricia roll in about an hour later, their decoy mission successful. They drew off at least four raiders, led them on a chase through terrain that eventually broke the pursuit.
"We did it," Eric says, wonder and disbelief mixing in his voice. "We actually did it."
"We're not clear yet." Travis is already studying maps, plotting the final approach to Hope Tower. But when he looks up at me, something passes between us. Acknowledgment. Pride. The recognition that we work well together—not just in bed, but in crisis. When things matter.
Ken claps Travis on the shoulder. "Hell of a jump back there."
"Hazel's idea," Travis lies smoothly.
"Bullshit," I say. "That was all you."
"We make a good team." He says it casually, but his eyes hold mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"Yeah," I manage. "We do."
We mount up for the final stretch to Hope Tower. This time I don't hesitate—I climb onto Travis's ATV and wrap my arms around his waist.
The guilt is still there. The grief over my crew, the weight of survival, all of it. But it's not crushing me anymore.
Reggy would approve. Susan would make a terrible pun about "moving on." Tommy would ask a thousand questions about the jump and the gunfight.
They're dead. I'm alive.
And I'm done apologizing for that.
As we ride toward Hope Tower, I let my head rest against Travis's back and just breathe.
nine
Travis
HopeTowerrisesagainstthe evening sky, Rebecca and Joseph's beacon sweeping its steady arc across the darkening forest. We made it.
Ruby meets us at the gate, her sharp eyes immediately looking for injuries. Mayson stands beside her, and I see the moment they both clock Hazel—the way she moves, the set of her shoulders, the pistol still tucked into her waistband.
"The raider cell you hit has been causing problems for months," Mayson says after brief introductions. "Taking them down will save lives."
"Hazel deserves the credit," I tell him. "That was her crew they ambushed."
"We all deserve it," Hazel corrects. "I couldn't have done it alone."
Ruby and Mayson exchange one of those married-couple glances that says more than words. Ruby gestures toward themain building. "We've got food and beds ready. You all look like hell. We can debrief tomorrow."
I expect to spend the evening going over raider patterns and security protocols. Instead, Ruby practically shoves us toward the guest quarters.
"Tomorrow," she says firmly when I try to protest. "You just survived an ambush and drove for eight hours. Rest. That's an order."
Mayson grins. "She's scary when she uses that tone. Trust me."
So we eat delicious hot food, prepared by Rebecca, better than anything we've had in weeks. The crew is exhausted, adrenaline crash hitting everyone at once. They drift to their rooms one by one.
Hazel and I are the last ones left, sitting in the common area with the remains of dinner between us.
"You okay?" I ask.
