“You trust me,” she says, not quite a question.
I meet her eyes.
“Yeah.”
The word comes out easier than it should.
Stronger too.
Her breath catches—
Just slightly.
But I see it.
And suddenly everything feels a hell of a lot quieter than it should out here.
“You shouldn’t,” she says, softer now.
I step closer.
Close enough that I can see the shift in her pupils.
“Too late.”
That edge comes back into her expression—but it’s different now.
Not defensive.
Not sharp.
Something… breaking.
“Jase—”
Gunfire cracks in the distance.
We both snap back instantly.
Reality slams back into place.
“They’re regrouping,” Lance calls.
“Yeah,” I answer without looking away from her. “They won’t stop.”
Mila exhales slowly, resetting, but she doesn’t step back.
Not all the way.
“They won’t,” she agrees. “Which means neither do we.”
There she is.
That fire again.
But now I see what’s under it.
Not just instinct.
