Then I look back at my brothers.
“We’re going home.”
And this time—
I mean it.
69
Jonah
Location: Upper Forest Ridge — Eastern Europe
Time: 1234 Hours
The forest exhales.
Not wind.
Not weather.
Pressure.
I slow mid-step, lifting a fist without thinking. My body reacts before my mind catches up—training layered over instinct, instinct sharpened by three years of cages and pain.
Something changed.
Behind me, the hunters hesitate.
It’s subtle. A half-beat delay in movement. A breakdown in rhythm. Men who were advancing with purpose now shifting, reorienting, recalculating.
Confusion.
I breathe in slowly, ribs flaring in protest.
That’s it.
That’s the moment.
I don’t need a radio call. I don’t need confirmation.
I feel it the way you feel gravity tilt—like the world just leaned in our favor.
“They’re free,” I murmur.
The words scrape out of my throat before I realize I’ve spoken them.
I crouch behind a fallen log, eyes tracking movement downslope. The hunters’ formation is loosening. One of them raises his hand, signaling a halt that doesn’t fully register.
Too many variables now.
Too many unknowns.
That only happens when control is gone.
Ethan cross
I see his face in my mind immediately—jaw clenched, eyes steady even when they beat him for not reacting fast enough. He always took it quiet. Took it deep.
