He almost smiles.
Almost.
We finda small dip in the terrain—a natural hollow surrounded by thick brush and fallen branches.
Good cover.
Minimal visibility.
Temporary safety.
That’s the best we’re getting tonight.
I sit.
Not gracefully.
More like controlled collapse.
Jase crouches in front of me immediately.
Too close.
Always too close.
“Let me see it,” he says.
“I’m fine.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “That’s becoming less convincing every time you say it.”
I glare at him.
He doesn’t care.
Of course, he doesn’t.
“Hold still,” he says.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“You do when they keep you alive.”
I hesitate.
Just long enough to be annoying.
Then—
I hold still.
Because again—
He’s right.
This is getting old.
His hand comes up to my face.
