“No.”
A beat.
“But I will.”
Because I have to.
Because if I don’t—
We’re already done.
Logan
She’s ahead of it.
I can feel it in the way she moves—slower, more deliberate, her attention not just scanning butprocessing.
She’s not reacting.
She’s hunting.
Good.
Because I don’t like this.
Not the terrain.
Not the silence.
Not the way it feels like we stepped into something that was already waiting for us.
I shift slightly, adjusting my position just enough to cover her blind side without crowding her.
Not controlling.
Supporting.
Always supporting.
“You don’t like it,” I say.
“No,” she replies. “I don’t.”
Good.
Neither do I.
We keep moving.
Step by step.
Measured.
Quiet.
Every instinct I have is telling me the same thing:
We’re being watched.
