The radio on the table barked, the static shattering the quiet.
“Mercer, come in.” It was Daniel.
Nick grabbed the handset. “Mercer. Go.”
“Airstrip access is clear pending a final sweep. The drainage is empty. We can move the priority group before dark if you want it. Main road is holding.”
The room went still in the exact wrong way. Sarah appeared in the doorway before Nick had even set the handset down. She must have heard enough in Daniel’s voice to hope.
“Tell me that means movement,” she said.
The hour we had stolen between quiet work and radio calls ended all at once. We had been fine while leaving was still a rumor.
Nick’s body changed before he even stood up. He capped the marker, folded the map with a sharp, final snap, and put three feet of distance between us. His face closed first. Then his shoulders. By the time he reached for the radio, I was looking at the version of him everyone else got.
“Sarah, start staging the priority group,” Nick said. “The Brussels couple with the tight connection first. Alina if she wants the seat. Anyone with an international connection we can still save.”
Sarah nodded once, already reaching for the tablet. “I’ll update the board.”
She left before either of us spoke again.
I looked at Nick. “And me?”
“Your suite is still inside the restricted zone. I’ll have your luggage pulled once the western track is clear. You’re on the dawn transfer, when I can move you with daylight and a clean route.”
My fingers tightened around the pen. He wouldn't look at me. That was how I knew.
“That was quick,” I said.
“It has to be.”
“Does it?”
Nick stopped at the door. For a second, his hand tightened around the radio hard enough to whiten his knuckles.
“Juliette.” My name came out rough. Not cold. Worse. Careful. “What we had this week…what we have right now…I don’t know what to do with it.”
My throat tightened.
He looked at me then, and the control was still there, but it was cracked all the way through.
“But I know what I’m supposed to do with you,” he said. “Get you out of here alive, even if every selfish part of me wants one more day.”
That hurt more than distance would have.
“So that’s it?”
“No.” His jaw flexed. “That’s the problem.”
I didn’t even know what I wanted him to offer.
A date? A flight? A promise to appear in Florida and ruin my carefully arranged life with that voice and those hands?
I wanted none of that.
I wanted all of it.
Perfect. Very stable. Excellent work, Wilder.
