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Of course they are.
This was never about holding her.
It was about pulling us in.
“Form up!” I order. “Defensive positions!”
Gunfire erupts.
Sharp.
Controlled.
Close.
I step forward, putting myself between Scout, Tessa, and the incoming threat.
“Stay behind me,” I tell them.
Scout doesn’t argue.
Doesn’t hesitate.
She shifts with me, keeping Tessa anchored, controlled even in the chaos.
That’s her.
That’s always been her.
“They knew we’d come,” Boone says, firing clean shots.
“Yeah.”
“They’re not trying to stop us from leaving.”
No.
They’re trying to—
“Separate us,” Scout says.
Exactly.
Sentinel.
This is him.
Not brute force.
Not chaos.
Control.
Pressure.
Choice.
I fire again, dropping one of the incoming men.
