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Certain.
“I’ve got you.”
Yeah.
I know.
That’s why I let go.
Mila
“Get him up!”one of the Delta Five shouts.
They move in fast—
Lifting him—
Taking his weight—
But I don’t let go of his hand.
Not yet.
Not until—
They pull us toward the rope.
Toward the helicopter.
Toward—
Safety.
Maybe.
Gunfire continues below us as we lift off—
The world shrinking beneath us—
The danger still there—
Still chasing—
Still not over.
I look down at him.
At the heat in his skin.
At the way he’s not fully conscious anymore.
And fear finally breaks through.
Deep.
Sharp.
Real.
