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One sound—
And this turns into a kill box.
I lower my head slightly.
Closer to her ear.
“Breathe,” I whisper.
She lets out a slow, controlled breath.
Good.
She listens.
Even when she doesn’t want to.
A shadow passes over the entrance.
Stops.
Waits.
Everything in me goes still.
Calculated.
Ready.
If they come in—
I end it fast.
No hesitation.
No mistakes.
The shadow lingers.
Too long.
Then—
Moves on.
Bootsteps fade.
Voices shift further down the ridge.
Not gone.
But not here.
Not yet.
Mila
We don’t move.
