Time: 1246 Hours
Ifeel it before I hear the bird.
Not the sound—the pull.
That subtle shift in the air pressure tells you something big is coming fast and low. My knees almost give out when I stop moving. Adrenaline has been holding me upright for longer than it has any right to.
I brace a hand against a tree.
The bark bites into my palm.
Good.
Real.
“Extraction inbound,” Lena’s voice cuts through the comm. “Jonah, mark yourself.”
I key the mic, but the words tangle for a second before they come out. “Copy. Marking now.”
I pop the strobe and drop to one knee.
The forest blurs at the edges of my vision. Pain finally punches through—deep, layered, everywhere. Ribs. Shoulder. Thigh. Places I didn’t know had names.
Doesn’t matter.
I’m still standing.
The helicopter breaks the tree line like a promise, rotors chewing the air into chaos. I raise my arm once—controlled, deliberate.
Not waving.
Claiming.
The bird settles hard. Ramps open.
Ronan is the first one I see.
He’s already moving before my boots hit metal, hands gripping my vest, steadying me like he knows exactly how close I am to folding.
“You did it,” he says.
I shake my head once. “We did.”
He doesn’t argue.
Good man.
Inside, medics swarm—but I barely register them. My eyes lock on the stretchers instead.
Ethan Cross is strapped down, oxygen mask hissing softly. Still pale. Still breathing.
Lance’s eyes are open. Bloodied. Alive. He catches sight of me and lifts two fingers in a weak salute.
“Show-off,” he rasps.
I laugh—and it cracks something in my chest that has nothing to do with injuries.
“Miss me?” I manage.
