Page 26 of Cyclone

A sharp pain lanced across my arm—a graze—but I ignored it, firing again.

“Hold the line!” Tag shouted.

Then—the low thrum of rotors.

The helicopter, cutting through the mist like salvation itself.

“Fall back to the bird!” Cyclone yelled. “Jude, run now.”

We moved as one, retreating under heavy fire. Tag and River covered us, picking off anyone reckless enough to chase.

The helicopter hovered just above the clearing, a rope ladder dropping down.

Cyclone boosted me up first. My hands burned as I climbed, muscles screaming, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

At the top, hands grabbed me, pulling me in.

Cyclone was right behind me, hauling himself up like he weighed nothing.

Tag and River followed, River cursing under his breath as a bullet nicked the edge of the helicopter’s skid.

The rest of the Golden Team jumped inside, the hatch slamming shut.

The helicopter banked hard, engines screaming, and the jungle fell away beneath us.

Safe.

For now.

The helicopter shudderedthrough the dense clouds, every jolt and dip making my nerves scream. I sat hunched in my seat, clutching the straps across my chest like they might anchor me to something real.

Cyclone sat across from me, his rifle cradled in his lap, eyes never leaving the battered jungle shrinking beneath us. We were all quiet. No one spoke.

We were all running on adrenaline and fumes.

My body ached, my arm throbbed where the bullet had grazed me, but it was the tight coil of fear in my chest that hurt the most.

I had nowhere to go.

No home. No plan.

Except—

I closed my eyes briefly, forcing my breathing to slow.

There was a place.

An old ranch in Arizona, out in the middle of the desert. We bought it under a fake name a month before my family died. I went there when it happened, a broken version of myself hiding in the dust and silence. No one knew about it—not the Agency, not my old contacts, not even my friends—the few who were still alive.

I hadn’t set foot there in six years.

But it was mine. And it was far away from all of this.

Cyclone’s voice cut into my spiraling thoughts. “We need a plan.”

I opened my eyes. He was watching me, his gaze steady but unreadable.

“I have somewhere,” I said quietly. “It’s old and run down, but it’s mine.”

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