“This,” I say, gesturing at the map, at the channels, at everything, “is still moving.”
Because it is. Even as Archer closes in. Even as Damon finally shows himself. Something else is still in motion. Something Ican’t fully see yet. My phone buzzes again. This time it’s Archer’s channel. Or at least part of it. Static breaks through first. Then fragments.
“…Felix confirmed… not primary… northwest ridge compromised…”
Then nothing. Just silence. My heart drops slightly, but I force it back into place. Not yet.
Not until I know.
Delilah watches me carefully. “Tessa?—”
“I know,” I say.
I don’t know what exactly I know. But I know I can’t fall apart right now. Not here.
Not while everything is still moving. Another update comes in. This one from Conrad.
“Archer continuing pursuit of Damon. Felix contained but provided intel regarding secondary incursion possibility.”
Secondary incursion. There it is again. That phrase. That structure. That pattern. I feel something cold settle in my chest.
“This is layered deeper than we thought,” I say quietly.
Brooke nods once. “So what do we do?”
I look down at the map again. At Redwood Crossing. At the forest lines wrapping around it like a tightening grip. Then I look back up.
“We hold,” I say.
Delilah exhales. “That’s it?”
“No,” I correct. “We hold and we prepare for what comes after Archer ends this.”
This isn’t a single victory condition. It never was. Archer is moving toward a finish line that might not actually end anything. And I am sitting in the center of everything that comes after.
“Keep all units in position,” I say. “No one moves unless directly ordered. We don’t break formation for anything less than confirmed breach.”
Brooke nods once and heads back out. Delilah stays for a moment longer.
“You’re scared,” she says quietly.
I don’t deny it.
“I’m aware,” I correct.
She studies me. Then gives a small nod like that’s enough. And maybe it is. Because fear doesn’t help right now. Only structure does. Only control. Only holding the line. I wait. For Archer. For Damon. For whatever comes next. Because I have a feeling?—
We’re not done yet. Not even close.
36
ARCHER
The forest swallows sound the moment I leave the edge of Redwood Crossing. Even my own footsteps feel muted out here, like the trees are pressing in close enough to absorb anything that might give me away. Damp earth, crushed pine needles, the sharp bite of sap in the air—everything tells me I’m deep in rogue territory now.
Damon’s scent is stronger here. That’s all I need to keep going. It twists through the underbrush like a challenge. Like he wants to be followed. I move faster.
Branches snap low against my forearms as I push through a thick line of fir trees. The forest floor slopes downward, uneven, turning slick with moss and exposed roots. This isn’t just wilderness anymore. It’s been used. Trampled. Claimed.
