She bit her lip, looking at the window. The old fear of abandonment was still there.
"How long?"
"Two hours," I promised. "Maximum."
I reached into the inner pocket of my jacket, which I was currently carrying over my arm, and pulled out the brick-sized device I kept for emergencies.
"Satellite phone," I explained, placing it in her hand. It was heavy, industrial, and ugly. "It bypasses the local towers. It connects directly to the constellation."
I pressed the power button. The screen glowed a reassuring green.
"Number one is my cell," I said, pointing to the speed dial. "Number two is Daniel. Number three is Simon. If you push that red button on the side, it pings your GPS coordinates to my private security team in Seattle, and they deploy a chopper within fifteen minutes."
She looked at the phone, then up at me. "You carry this around?"
"I manage high-value assets," I said, a ghost of a smirk touching my lips. "And you are the highest value."
She curled her fingers around the device. The tension in her shoulders dropped an inch.
"Okay," she whispered. "Two hours."
"Lock the door behind us," Daniel called softly from the doorway. "Top bolt and deadbolt. Don't open it for anyone but us."
"We'll text when we hit the perimeter," Simon added, wringing his hands.
I stood up. My body screamed at me to climb into the bed, to wrap myself around her and let the world burn. Leaving felt like an amputation. It felt wrong on a cellular level.
But logic was my love language. And logic dictated that she needed hydration and ibuprofen more than she needed my body weight right now.
"Two hours," I repeated, leaning down.
I kissed her. It wasn't a soft goodbye peck. I pressed my mouth to hers, firm and claiming, tasting the lingering flavor of us on her tongue. I let the kiss drag out, pouring my reassuranceinto her, marking her one last time before I stepped out into the cold.
"Go," she breathed against my lips, pushing lightly at my chest. "Before I ask you to stay."
I pulled back, straightening my spine. I nodded once, turned on my heel, and walked out of the room.
"Move," I barked at the others, herding them down the hall. "We’re burning daylight."
The air outside was crisp, smelling of wet pine and diesel fumes. The storm had scrubbed the world clean, leaving behind a stark, high-contrast landscape of dark trees and grey sky.
We piled into the black SUV. The interior still smelled faintly of the drive up, stale coffee and tension. It felt like a lifetime ago.
"I'll drive," I said, snatching the keys before Simon could even reach for them. "I don't need your emotional driving right now, Bradlee."
"My driving is expressive," Simon muttered, climbing into the back seat. He slumped against the window, pulling his hood up.
Daniel took the passenger seat. He filled the space, his knees practically touching the dashboard. He immediately pulled out his phone, watching the signal bars flicker from 'searching' to one fragile dot of LTE as we cleared the treeline.
"It's blowing up," Daniel said, his voice grim.
"What is?" I checked the rearview mirror, reversing down the muddy drive.
"The Agency," Daniel said. "And the studio. And my voicemails."
"Ignore them," I ordered, putting the car in drive. We rolled forward, the tires crunching over the gravel. "We are offline until we secure the supplies."
"Anders, your assistant Gretchen has sent you forty-two emails in the last twelve hours," Daniel read, scrolling. "Subjectline:ARE YOU ALIVE?Subject line:LAWSUIT THREAT.Subject line:WHERE IS THE MANUSCRIPT?"
