Briar takes point in a black SUV with Landon beside him. Jinx drives the second vehicle, a nondescript sedan that blends with civilian traffic. “For protection.” He said. I believe he just wanted more time in the chaos before going back to the Ministry. I sit in the back with Elliot, who sleeps against my shoulder with the boneless exhaustion of someone whose body has finally accepted safety.
The drive to the private airstrip takes nine hours.
We switch vehicles twice, doubling back on ourselves, taking routes that add hours to the journey but make tracking nearly impossible. Standard evasion protocol. The kind of paranoid tradecraft I've employed on dozens of operations.
This time, it matters in ways it never did before.
Every time Elliot shifts in his sleep, every small sound he makes, I’m watching. His breathing is steady. His color is better than yesterday. The bruises on his wrists have darkened to purple, butthe edges are already yellowing—his body healing faster than I expected.
He's resilient. I knew that intellectually, from his file, from the fact that he survived Moore for eighteen months. But watching him pull himself back from the edge of collapse, watching him demand partnership instead of protection—that's something different.
Something I don't know how to do.
At a rest stop near the border, Jinx brings back coffee and sandwiches. Elliot wakes long enough to eat half of his, then drifts off again, crumbs still on his lip.
I brush them away without thinking.
Jinx catches the gesture in the rearview mirror. His eyes flick away, but not before I see something complicated in his expression.
"What?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
"Nothing." A pause. "It's just strange, watching you do normal human things. Like you downloaded a software update overnight."
"I don't know what I'm doing."
"That's obvious." His tone isn't unkind. "But you're trying. That's more than I expected."
"What did you expect?"
"Honestly? I expected you to get him out, stash him somewhere safe, and go back to doing what you've always done. Mission first. Asset second." He shrugs. "Instead you're wiping crumbs off his face like some kind of boyfriend. It's weird."
"Is that a problem?"
"No." Jinx is quiet for a moment, navigating around a slow-moving truck. "It's good, actually. It means maybe there's hope for the rest of us too."
I don't ask what he means by that. I'm not sure I want to know.
Once we’re at the airstrip, we board and fly. It feels like forever, but the meals are worth taking a flight ten times longer.
Eventually we land, hail a cab and follow Briar’s car towards his place.
The road climbs into the mountains as afternoon fades to evening. Pine forests give way to exposed rock faces, then snow-covered slopes that stretch toward peaks I can't see in the gathering dark.
The radio crackles. Briar's voice, encrypted channel.
"We're clear. No tails, no surveillance pings. You can relax."
Relax. The word feels foreign in my mouth, like a phrase from a language I don't speak.
Elliot stirs as we make the final turn onto the gravel drive.
"Where are we?"
"Switzerland. Briar's property." I watch his face as the cottage comes into view, warm light spilling from the windows. "We'll be safe here. At least for a while."
"It's beautiful."
It is. Even I can recognize that—the stone walls, the slate roof, the smoke curling from the chimney against the darkening sky. Something about it feels almost peaceful.
