Page 21 of Battle of Hearts

About an hour or so passed before the subsiding of the storm became more visible. The swirling mass of white seemed less impenetrable, the wind no longer howling with such ferocity. It was a quiet shift, as if the storm was finally releasing them from its merciless grip.

“We need a signal,” Sawyer said, her voice hoarse from days of shouting above the wind. There hadn’t been much talking between the two of them, given they were both overwhelmed with exhaustion, having been on the verge of death just hours before. She looked down at Mirren, who slowly spooned canned beans into her mouth with still frozen fingers. “If the storm’s easing, they’ll be looking for us.”

Mirren nodded. “I can rig something,” she said. Her voice was noticeably weaker, but she still had those flecks of calm determination that Sawyer couldn’t help but admire. “Let me get my stuff,” she added a minute later, slowly moving to her feet and accepting Sawyer’s hand when she reached out an arm to help.

She moved quickly despite her fatigue, gathering what little materials they had left. By some miracle, Mirren’s laptop and other devices hadn’t frozen in the raging storm, perhaps due to the isolation the rest of the items in their bags provided.

Sawyer watched the woman as she sat down in front of the burning oven and began to spread out her belongings, opening her laptop and typing away as if doing so were a second nature to her. It was impossible not to admire her. Even after everything—the bitter cold, the constant danger—Mirren still carried that steady resolve. A fierce protectiveness rose in Sawyer at the sight, mingled with something warmer, deeper.

Mirren handled trying to get help, while Sawyer continued to tend to the fire. As they worked side by side, Sawyer found herself constantly stealing glances at her. She couldn’t help it. Her hands were numb, fumbling with the supplies, but every time her fingers brushed against hers, the brief contact sent a jolt of warmth through her.

The cold had finally receded, but it was replaced by something far more dangerous—the awareness that Sawyer didn’t want to lose her.

Not just to this storm—but ever.

Minutes later, Mirren suddenly gasped. Sawyer’s eyes jerked in the woman’s direction, trying to garner her attention, but Mirren ignored her as she pounded at her keyboard with her fingers, bringing her tablet to her face as well to switch back and forth between the two.

“I’ve got a signal!” Mirren exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement as she momentarily met Sawyer’s gaze, then returned her focus to her work. When she offered no further details, Sawyer couldn’t help but crawl toward her.

“Are you able to send a message?” Sawyer asked, desperate for more information. She looked to the laptop screen for clues,but the jumble of data mixed with numbers and messages she couldn’t comprehend offered no further hints.

“I’m doing it right now…” Mirren said, dragging her last word before she pressed herenterkey. She inhaled a deep breath, then grinned widely as she looked back at Sawyer. “Sent. It should be only a matter of time before I get a response, and they send someone for us.”

Mirren lifted her gaze to meet Sawyer’s, the two women unable to say a word for what felt like minutes. They only held each other’s stares, eyes once filled with pain and exhaustion now glistening with hope and joy.

“We did it, Sawyer,” Mirren finally said, words coming out barely above a whisper. Her smile curled into a wide grin, followed by a short giggle that fogged the air. “We made it.”

“We made it,” Sawyer repeated, and felt taken aback when Mirren move forward to hug her. Sawyer, however, couldn’t help but immediately wrap her arms around the smaller woman. Even though the outpost barely warmed them, Saywer still felt warmth with Mirren in her arms, something that burned brighter and hotter than the fire inches away.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Mirren said as she pulled away, a speck of sadness hinting in her eyes.

Immediately, Sawyer shook her head. “Don’t?—”

“I wouldn’t have made it,” Mirren cut in. “Seriously. I…I can’t thank you enough.”

Sawyer lifted her hands to gently cup Mirren’s face, ducking her head and holding firm eye contact. “We did it together,” she said, firmly but gently. “I wouldn’t have been able to monitor the weather the way you did. I wouldn’t have been able to make contact for help. This is something we both did. We made ittogether, Mirren. You and I.”

A sweet look washed across Mirren’s face, giving her cheeks a light blush. “You and I…” She repeated, softly, as if she weretasting the words in her mouth. Tasting the idea of the two of them together being a more permanent thing, something that extended past this mission.

Within half an hour, the distant sound of rotor blades cut through the silence. Sawyer turned to Mirren, catching the glint of relief in her blue eyes.

“They’re coming,” she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a brief, stolen moment, they were still. The gravity of what they’d endured hung heavy in the air between them. Sawyer wanted to say something—to tell her everything she’d been holding back, but words felt inadequate. So instead, she reached for her hand. Her fingers were cold, trembling slightly, but when she gripped hers, there was a strength that steadied them both.

The rescue team arrived in a flurry of activity—voices shouting orders, hands pulling them toward the helicopter, blankets draped over their shoulders. It all passed in a blur of noise and movement. The biting cold, the unforgiving wind, faded into the background as they were lifted into the air, soaring above the snow-covered wilderness.

Mirren slumped against Sawyer, her head resting on her shoulder, her exhaustion finally overtaking her. Sawyer smiled as she held her close, the rhythmic thrum of the helicopter blades a distant hum compared to the pounding of her heart.

The harsh lines between them—those of rank, duty, professionalism—seemed to blur, melting away like the snow beneath the afternoon sun.

For so long, Sawyer had fought to keep those lines intact. Her life had been one of discipline, of rigid control. It was all she’d ever known.

But now, as she held Mirren in her arms, it all felt futile. The storm hadn’t just torn through the landscape. It had torn through her, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable truth.

Sawyer didn’t want to be without her.

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