Page 18 of Cyclone

She was running from something bigger than just the Syndicate. I could feel it in my bones.

The Blackdawn Syndicate—they were just the surface. Whatever Jude carried inside her, it ran deeper. Older.

And she hadn’t trusted me with it yet.

Maybe she never would.

The plane banked sharply, and Jude braced herself against the wall without a word. When the turbulence settled, I pushed off the bench and crossed the few steps to sit next to her.

“We’ll get you somewhere safe,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough that the others wouldn’t overhear.

Jude gave me a tired smile, small and broken at the edges. “Safe doesn’t exist anymore.”

I wanted to argue. Wanted to promise her otherwise. But I’d seen too much of her world to lie to her.

Instead, I said, “Maybe not. But we buy time. We keep moving.”

For a long moment, she just stared at me like she wanted to believe me, but didn’t dare.

“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.

I leaned back against the wall, arms folded loosely. “Yeah. I do.”

She looked away first, her fingers tightening around the strap of her pack. There were walls around her—thick, scarred walls built from grief and rage and loss.

I knew because I’d built some of the same ones.

But there was still a crack in hers. I could see it every time she looked at me, like she might drown and hated herself for it.

The pilot’s voice crackled over the intercom. “Fifteen minutes to drop point.”

I straightened, pulling my gear into my lap. Jude did the same, her movements quick, efficient. Professional.

We were soldiers again. Survivors.

But somewhere under the blood and bruises and lies, something had shifted between us.

I didn’t know where this road led.

But I knew I wasn’t letting her walk it alone.

Not this time.

Not ever again, if I could help it.

10

Jude

The engines roared beneath us, a constant, familiar hum that should have been comforting. It wasn’t. Because I knew I was finished, I couldn’t leave.

I sat rigid in the cargo bay of the Golden Team’s plane, my fingers locked around the strap of my pack like it was a lifeline. Cyclone sat beside me, quiet, steady—his presence a wall against everything trying to crush me from the inside.

I should have been grateful.

Instead, I felt like I was unraveling.

I fixed my gaze on a spot on the far wall, willing my breathing to stay even. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes until we landed somewhere safer. If there was such a thing.

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