13
ELI
Pre-dawn darkness. Temperature hovering just above freezing. Finn's compound showing clear on all sensors as we load into vehicles for the run to Anchorage.
Traci rides with us in the middle vehicle. Helena slides in beside me, close enough I catch her scent—soap and something underneath that's just her. Last night comes back in flashes. Her skin under my hands. The sounds she made. The way she met me in the violence and didn't flinch.
Not the time. Push it down.
Federal marshals in front and rear in armored SUVs. Zeke driving the lead with deputies from Rhys's department providing additional security. Cara coordinating communications from the trailing vehicle.
Multiple vehicles, staggered intervals, varied routes. Making Traci a hard target for anyone Graves has left.
She's wearing clean clothes Helena picked out. Hair pulled back. Backpack clutched on her lap. Posture rigid, hands gripping the straps too tight.
First time leaving the compound since we arrived. First time trusting systems that failed her before.
Helena's thigh presses against mine in the tight space. I'm hyperaware of every shift, every breath. Should be locked on the mission. Every other part of me remembers how she felt wrapped around me hours ago.
Mirrors show the area clear, federal vehicles maintaining interval. I scan tree lines for ambush positions. Running threat protocols while fighting the pull to look at Helena instead of the road.
Habits from the field. The ones that kept me breathing back when people like her and Traci didn't exist in my world.
The drive stretches through morning. Light breaks over the Chugach Range, turning snow-covered peaks orange and gold. Beautiful country when you're not running ops through it. When the woman beside you isn't pulling focus from tactical awareness.
Helena shifts. Her shoulder brushes mine. Small contact that shouldn't register but does. Everything about her registers now. The way she breathes. How she moves. Those hands that know exactly where to touch.
Traci stares out the window. Takes in the landscape. No compounds, no guards. Seems to be processing what freedom looks like now. Taking it slow because anything more would overwhelm.
"How are you holding up?" Helena's voice cuts through my thoughts.
Traci nods without looking away. Reaches for her notebook.
I didn't think I'd ever see this again. Just mountains and sky without someone watching.
Helena reads it, leans close to show me. Her hair brushes my jaw. Want slams through me, immediate and unwelcome. Wrong time, wrong place. Doesn't matter. My body doesn't care about tactical priorities when she's this close.
"You're seeing it now," Helena says. "And you'll keep seeing it. Mountains, sky, whatever you want. This is your life again."
Traci's hand trembles as she writes more.
What if the testimony doesn't work? What if he gets away with it?
"Won't happen." That comes out rougher than I intended. "Prosecutors wouldn't bring you to Anchorage without the case built. Your testimony seals it."
She studies my face. Looking for certainty.
I give her facts. Cold and direct. "Federal prosecutors don't move on decorated marshals without ironclad evidence. Financial trail, contractor confessions, surveillance data. Your testimony connects Graves to the compound. Multiple independent sources pointing at one target." Pause. "He's done."
Tension in her shoulders eases slightly. Enough to keep moving forward.
Helena's eyes are on me. I feel it without looking. That assessment she does, cataloging reactions, reading what's underneath. Seeing too much the way she did last night when I couldn't hide what I am.
What I became in the field and what I want to do to her again when this is over.
We reach Anchorage mid-morning. Federal building sits downtown, concrete and glass projecting authority. Security protocols activate before we park. Federal marshals exit first, establish perimeter, signal clear.
Standard witness protection procedures. The kind that should have worked the first time if Graves hadn't been running the system from inside.
