Page 129 of Silent Shadows

Not because she’s weak. She’s not.

She doesn’t need me standing in front of her. She would probably shove me out of the way, insult my boots, and then verbally dismantle a man until he questioned every life choice that led him to camo cargo shorts.

But the idea of something happening to her makes my pulse thunder. I roll onto my back and drag both hands over my face.

I can still feel her in this bunk. The weight of her against my chest. Her hair tickling my jaw. The sleepy, irritated sound she made when I moved my arm and accidentally elbowed the wall.

I should not smile about that. But I do.

I get up before sunrise, earlier than usual, and head outside.

Outside, the air is sharp and gray, the forest damp with leftover night. Mist hangs low between the trees, snagging on branches, turning the camp into something otherworldly.

It feels like the world is holding its breath. Like we are close.

I make coffee and spread the maps across the kitchenette table in the Machine before anyone else is up. I pull up yesterday’s route and mark Grant’s last known camp location. Recalculate the drainage access points. Then I do it again.

By the time Owen steps inside, I have three alternate paths highlighted and only one unhinged backup route Maya would not approve of.

Owen pauses in the doorway, hair flattened on one side, eyes narrowed against the light.

“You look terrible,” he says.

“Good morning to you too.”

He grunts, reaches for the coffee, and puts a finger down on the map. “That route’s bad.”

I look down at the map. “This route is necessary, and you’ve been here, like, six hours.”

“And yet I’m right.”

He pours coffee into a mug that says I WANT TO BELIEVE in faded blue letters, then stares at it.

His expression flattens.

“Is this yours?”

“Yes.”

“Of course it is.”

“You got fired from Area 51,” I say. “Maybe don’t judge my mug.”

Owen takes a long drink. “I didn’t get fired from Area 51.”

I look at him.

He looks back.

“You literally walked into a bar last night and said, ‘I got fired from Area 51.’”

“Yeah, because it’s faster than saying I got removed from a classified aerospace-adjacent research contract tied to a federal installation everyone colloquially understands as Area 51.”

I blink.

“You practiced that.”

“Several times in the truck.”