I nod once.
“Then we stop choosing.”
A pause.
Her voice is quiet.
Deadly.
“We end it.”
And I believe her.
Because whatever this is now—
It’s not just a mission anymore.
It’s a hunt.
43
Scout
Tessa doesn’t let go of me.
Not when we get into the vehicle.
Not when the doors slam.
Not even when we’re moving.
Her fingers are tight around my arm, like if she loosens her grip for even a second, I might disappear.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur.
Soft.
Steady.
The way I used to.
Her breathing is uneven, still catching in sharp bursts, her body trying to come down from something it doesn’t understand how to process.
“It’s okay,” I add.
It’s not.
But she doesn’t need the truth right now.
She needs me.
“I knew you’d come,” she says, her voice small in a way I haven’t heard since she was a kid.
Something in my chest tightens.
Not breaking.
Never breaking.
