My hands sweep carefully over her — her pockets, the blanket under my coat, the thin fabric of her medical shirt.
Nothing.
Until—
A small, hard lump beneath the edge of her sleeve.
A tracking node.
Sewn into the fabric.
Roscov’s voice purrs through the comm.
“Did you really think I would let my most valuable asset stroll off the mountain?”
Lena’s face crumples in horror. “I didn’t know. Ronan, I didn’t—”
“I know.”
My voice is rough, raw.
“You didn’t do anything wrong.”
I rip the tracker free and throw it as far as I can across the ravine.
Aaron fires three shots into it until it sparks and dies.
But it’s too late.
Because the forest behind us erupts with movement — dozens of Ascendancy soldiers rushing through the smoke, their shouts growing louder.
They know exactly where we are.
Roscov’s last message hangs in the air:
“You can’t protect her forever, Pierce.”
I tuck Lena behind me, aiming my rifle as the enemy closes in.
My voice is low. Controlled. Deadly.
18
Ronan
Location: Northern Alps — Cliffside Ravine
0502 Hours
The forest breathes wrong.
Too quiet in the wrong places. Too loud where it shouldn’t be.
Ascendancy soldiers are closing in fast—boots crunching snow, shouted commands echoing through the trees. They’re moving with confidence now.
Because they think they’ve already won.
I pull Lena tighter behind me, my body a wall she doesn’t question. She presses into my back, shaking—but steady. She doesn’t scream. Doesn’t panic.
