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A flicker of something crosses his face.
Fast.
Gone.
“Ridge line,” he says. “North side. Ten minutes.”
“You better be there.”
“I will.”
Not good enough.
Not even close.
Another round tears through the trees.
We move.
Opposite directions.
And the second I lose sight of him—
I hate it.
I hate it more than I should.
Jase
I wait three seconds.
Then I move.
Not away from her.
Toward the threat.
Always toward the threat.
I fire twice—draw attention—shift position.
They take the bait.
Good.
That’s the plan.
But something feels—
Off.
Too clean.
Too predictable.
Like they knew exactly how this would play out.
I drop one.
