“Forward operating bases,” he said. “Weeks inside the perimeter. Sometimes months.”
Emma glanced at him. “That sounds miserable.”
He shrugged. “You get used to it.” The words came out flat. Automatic. But something pushed him to add more. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t get to you. That it doesn’t feel like a prison.”
A truth he hadn’t intended to share.
Emma didn’t rush to respond. She just walked beside him, processing. He appreciated that, the way she let silence exist without rushing to fill it.
“I guess we’re both adjusting to confinement,” she finally said. “You’re just better at it.”
“Practice.”
“Lucky you.”
The dry delivery surprised a sound from him, almost a laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time he'd truly laughed.
Emma noticed it. He felt her attention shift; a small smile tugged at her lips.
“Did you just laugh?”
“No.”
“You did. I heard it.”
“You heard wrong.”
“So this is your idea of nightlife?” Emma asked, warmth threading through her voice. “Armed escort around the island?”
This time a smile touched his mouth despite himself.
“You’re welcome.”
They rounded a curve where the beach narrowed, and the jungle pressed in closer. Moonlight painted everything in shades of silver and shadow. Emma had loosened up, her earlier tension dissolving into something easier. She no longer watched him like he might snap at any second.
He didn’t realize how much that mattered until it shifted.
Then every instinct he possessed ignited at once.
Zach slowed without conscious thought. Nothing obvious triggered it. No sound. No movement. Only a sudden wrongness which lifted the hair along his nape. Combat had taught him one rule above all others: instincts existed for a reason.
“What?” Emma whispered.
She’d picked up on his change. Observant.
He scanned the tree line. Shadows lay thick beneath the trees. Wind moved through fronds in normal patterns. No break in the rhythm. No unnatural stillness. Nothing.
Unease crawled up his spine.
“Zach?”
He listened. Surf. Wind. Distant generator.
“Probably the wind,” he said.
He didn’t believe it.
They walked another twenty yards. He adjusted their angle, moving them farther from the jungle. Emma matched his pace without comment, trusting his judgment.
