James

For a moment, no one moves.

The room feels sealed shut, like the air itself has thickened—stale and pressing in on us. Screens glow softly along the walls. Equipment hums, obnoxiously loud in the silence Victor left behind.

Zeb exhales through his nose, slow and controlled. 

Dominick is typing, fingers moving fast, ruthless in their efficiency.

“No trace,” Dominick says after a beat. His jaw tightens. “Signal was masked from the moment it hit the network.”

Zeb nods once, unsurprised. “He knew we’d try.”

Of course he did.

Victor never does anything without accounting for every possible angle. Every possible move. That, paired with his utter disregard for others and his complete lack of conscience, is what makes him so damn dangerous.

“Didn’t even get a ghost ping,” Owen adds over comms, his voice crackling slightly, edged with frustration. “Whoever’s helping him knows what they’re doing.”

I absorb the words without reacting.

Outwardly, I’m calm. Hands loose at my sides. Breathing steady. 

Inside, everything is vibrating.

Adrenaline hums through my blood like live wire—tight, buzzing, coiled so hard it feels like my bones might crack under the pressure. I catalog the information automatically. No trace. No lead. Nothing concrete to chase.

Then I lock it away.

There will be time for rage later.

For panic.

For the unraveling.

Just not yet.

Zeb glances at me, searching my face for signs of fracture. “We’ll keep digging,” he promises. “If there’s even a sliver—”

“Just find him,” I cut in quietly. “It’s all I ask.” I try to mask the helplessness bleeding into my voice, but it’s a wasted effort. It spills out anyway.

Zeb holds my gaze for a moment, then nods. “We will. You have my word.”

But I’m already done listening to their promises.

My attention shifts—because Annelly hasn’t moved since the call ended.

She’s standing exactly where I left her, arms wrapped tight around herself like she’s bracing against a cold only she can feel. Her face is pale. Too still. Her eyes aren’t unfocused or panicked the way one would expect.

Instead, they’re resolved.

And that terrifies me more than anything else, because I know that look.

I’ve worn it myself many times before.

She’s already decided.

The realization hits low and sharp, lodging beneath my ribs like a blade I don’t have time to pull out.

Victor thinks the leverage to get me to do what he wants is Tyler, but he couldn’t be more wrong. The real danger to me—to both of us—is the woman standing in front of me. Quiet. Brave. Already prepared to make the selfless choice to save my brother.

And this is when I know, with sickening certainty, that if I don’t act now—if I don’t change the trajectory of where this is headed—she’ll walk straight into the monster’s lair believing it’s the only way.

Ill-equipped.

Unprotected.

Willing.

My stomach sours.

I’ve already failed Tyler. I’ll be damned if I let that happen to her, too.

I’m across the room before anyone can stop me. Before Zeb can open his mouth. Before someone else says something well-meaning and wrong.

I stop in front of Annelly.

Up close, the resolve in her eyes is even more pronounced. It’s quiet. Controlled. The kind that’s already set in motion, like what comes next is inevitable and only a matter of time. 

And right then, I understand what’s happening.

She’s waiting. Not for instructions.

What she’s waiting for is my permission.

Which is so much fucking worse, because I know—deep in my bones—that Victor has already won.

He’s turned her sacrifice into a weapon. One aimed straight at me.

If I let her go, she’ll remember that when it mattered most—when my brother’s life was on the line—I stood back and let her offer herself up to a madman without so much as a fight.

And if I stop her—if I cage her here against her will to keep her safe—she’ll remember that when it mattered most to her, I didn’t trust her enough to choose what was right for herself.

Either way, Victor has set it up so I lose something I might never get back.

Her trust. 

Her faith in me.

The monster inside me rears, frantic and clawing. It’s why I don’t touch her. Why I don’t crowd her. Why I don’t let myself get too close—because I don’t trust what I might do if I let myself forget, even for a second, that she isn’t something to be guarded and treated like property.

“Annelly…” I keep my voice calm, even as everything inside me roars. “Will you come with me?”

Her eyes flicker, searching my face for answers I’m determined not to give.

“I need you with me,” I add. “I need to show you.” 

It’s all I have in me to offer right now.

No explanation.

No reassurance.

No promises I can’t afford to make.

She studies me for a beat longer, then nods.

Only then do I take her hand. My fingers shake as they weave through hers—not to pull her along, not to steer, but to anchor her to me. To remind myself there’s still time. That this doesn’t have to end the way Victor wants it to.

I don’t look back at the team as we pass. They don’t ask questions or try to stop us, and I’m grateful for that. 

For the moment, they can handle the tactics, the tracking, the intel.

While me?

My job right now is to make sure Annelly is ready for what’s coming. 

And to make sure I don’t lose her before I get the chance to save her.

The door closes behind us, and the cool air hits my face—sharp but clean—carrying the damp scent of earth and pine instead of recycled heat and electronics. Spring hasn’t fully arrived yet, but it’s trying. The ground is soft beneath our boots, dark with the rare patch of new growth, shoots of bright green pushing through like nature itself is celebrating the fact that winter has finally loosened its grip.

Annelly breathes out beside me, slow and steady.

We walk without speaking, leaving behind everything that connects us to the nightmare—the radios, the computer screens, the grim-faced men pretending their presence isn’t a sign of the war coming for us all.

Out here, there’s no hum of machines. No voices in my ear reminding me of everything I stand to lose.

No.

Out here it’s just us, the sound of the breeze moving through the branches and the occasional birdsong—faint, tentative, but alive. Resilient. Proof that even after a long, brutal winter, life still survives.

This is where my shoulders finally relax.

This is where I remember who I am when I’m not caged inside four walls with the monster beating in my chest.

Beside me, Annelly stumbles over a half-hidden root, and I tighten my grip without thinking, steadying her before she can even react.

“Careful,” I murmur.

She huffs softly, more breath than sound. “You’d think after everything, it wouldn’t be a tree root that takes me out.”

The corner of my mouth lifts despite myself. It’s not funny—but the fact that she can still laugh at herself, even now, tells me everything I need to know. This is her doing what she does best. 

Helping to ground me.

Helping to ground us.

We keep walking. 

Her fingers stay wrapped around mine, and after a few steps our breathing falls into rhythm, our bodies syncing like this is how we were always meant to be.

This is the stillness after chaos.

The place where she and I can coexist and just be.

We veer deeper into the trees, sunlight filtering through bare branches, painting the forest floor in soft gold and breaking up the shadows. She turns her face, taking it all in, curiosity flickering through those beautiful—but still cautious—green eyes.

“What is this place?” she asks.

“My thinking spot,” I say, making a half-hearted attempt at humor.

She glances at me, one brow lifting. “Well, that sounds dangerous.”

A short, rough laugh slips out of me—real enough to loosen something tight in my chest. “You have no idea.”

We reach a small clearing, the earth packed down from years of weather and time. I stop there, finally releasing her hand, though it takes more effort than it should.

Out here—without walls, without witnesses, without Victor’s voice crawling under my skin—I feel more like myself again. Not the man negotiating with monsters. Not the one carrying the weight of impossible choices.

Just a man standing in the woods with the woman he loves, trying to remember how to protect without controlling. How to prepare for what’s coming without breaking us both.

Annelly looks at me then, curiosity cutting through the fear that—thankfully—is no longer swallowing her whole.

“Can you tell me now?” she asks gently. “What are we doing out here, James?”

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