That’s when I felt it.
The shift.
The moment the runner realized she wasn’t isolated.
Not really.
I saw it in his eyes—the flicker of doubt. The way his shoulders tightened. The instinctive glance over his shoulder that told me he suddenlywantedconfirmation.
That was Rylie’s real move.
She didn’t threaten.
She destabilized.
“She’s forcing him to report,” Havoc murmured in my ear, I barely heard him.
“I know,” I replied.
And Thomas would hear it—not as words, but as tone. As uncertainty.
That was leverage.
Rylie paused, just long enough for the message to land, then stepped back into the ravine shadows. Not retreating.
Resetting.
Smart.
Too smart for someone Thomas thought he could push.
My phone vibrated once.
A single ping.
No message.
Just coordinates updating—tight, precise.
She knew exactly where I was.
My chest tightened—not with fear, not with panic.
With pride.
“She’s clear,” Havoc whispered. “No weapons drawn.”
“For now,” I replied.
Thomas would adapt.
But so would we.
I shifted my aim slightly—not at the runner.
At the space behind him.
The place Thomas would choose if he decided to appear.
