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I grab Mila’s arm—pull her to me.
Close.
Solid.
Certain.
“They’re not taking you,” I say low.
Her eyes meet mine.
And this time—
There’s no argument.
No pushback.
No deflection.
“…we’re not letting them,” she corrects.
Yeah.
That.
The helicopter breaks through the tree line above us.
Low.
Fast.
Armed.
“They’re here,” Mila says.
I look at her.
Really look at her.
And for the first time—
This isn’t just about the mission.
“Stay with me,” I say.
Mila
I don’t hesitate.
“Always.”
Gunfire erupts from above.
And this time—
They’re not trying to track us.
They’re trying to take us alive.
