Not desperate.
Just—
There.
Her fingers brushing my arm.
“You don’t get to either,” she says quietly.
That lands.
Hard.
Because she means it.
Because she feels it too.
Because whatever this is between us—
It’s not one-sided.
Not even close.
Gunfire fades completely now.
Silence returns.
But this time—
It’s different.
Because now we both know exactly what we stand to lose.
And neither of us is willing to let it happen.
39
Mila
Location: Abandoned Fishing Shelter — Adriatic Coast
Time: 11:28
By the time we reach the structure, I’m done pretending it doesn’t hurt.
The small fishing shelter sits tucked between jagged rock and brush, half-hidden from the ridge above. Weathered wood. Rusted hinges. Probably hasn’t seen a soul in years.
Perfect.
“Inside,” Jase says, already scanning the perimeter.
“I can walk,” I mutter.
“You are walking,” he shoots back. “You’re just doing it slower than you were twenty minutes ago.”
I glare at him.
He doesn’t even look remotely concerned about it.
