Page 105 of Hide From Me

“Enough.”

That single word cuts through the chatter like a whip crack, echoing in my skull, and sucking the air out of the cabin.

“This is a high-threat situation. We don’t have time to mess around.” Jon's voice rises as the helicopter dips low, skimming over the crumbling remains of what used to be an industrial block. From above, it’s nothing but decay—concrete and rust, glass shattered from the windows, the roof caved in like a fist punched straight through it. It looks like a broken mouth trying to swallow us whole: the drop zone.

We hook onto the fast ropes. My hands feel steady, but inside? That’s a different story. My thoughts flicker where they shouldn’t—Raylen’s face, the feel of her breath on my skin, the sound of her voice trembling when she told me what she’d done. I shove it down and lock it up tight because there’s no room for her here. Not tonight.

My boots hit the rooftop, and the unstable structure groans under my weight. The crunch of loose gravel skids beneath me as I unhook, knees bent and weight balanced.

Delilah is down next, smooth as a shadow with her rifle already up. She scans the perimeter as Jon and King follow, their landings quick andpracticed.

Jon wastes no time, motioning for Delilah to the edge. The tension tightens like a noose.

King mutters something as he comes up beside me, probably about our formation, but I let it slide right past. I don’t want to engage. Not when I’m this tightly wound. Not when Raylen’s confession is still echoing in my head like gunfire I can’t dodge.

“You’re staying here.” Jon’s voice is low, but firm enough that everyone can hear the authority in his tone.

Delilah stiffens. “The hell I am.”

“It’s an order,” Jon growls. The sound of it is sharp enough to cut. It damn near does me and I’m not even the one it's directed at.

I glance away as her jaw clenches and nostrils flare. She’s pissed, and I don’t blame her. I’ve been in that position plenty of times before with Caspian. Luckily, she's like me and knows not to push.

After a beat, she shoots back, “Of course, Captain.”

I quickly glance back at them to catch the sugar-sweet smile she has forced. Oof, that’s got to sting knowing it’s only plastered on because of their ranks. Or maybe it isn’t that at all. I don’t know their relationship beyond their work. Still, judging by the softness that suddenly crosses Jon’s features as Delilah turns on her heel and perches in a spot by the large opening in the roof, it’s much more than a simple familial love like Caspian and I share.

King leans toward Jon as he approaches, murmuring, “She’ll be okay.”

Jon doesn’t respond with words—just gives a single stone-faced nod.

We rig up quickly—gear checks, toggles clicked, mics adjusted. My fingers move on autopilot, muscle memory taking over where my brain is still tangled in things I shouldn’t be thinking about.

“You boys are clear!” Delilah calls over the comms, her focus unwavering as she peers through the scope of her sniper rifle.

We rappel through the damaged ceiling, descending into the building’s interior. The air changes the moment we step inside—cooler and heavier. It reeksof mildew, wet concrete, and decay, as if this place has been abandoned long enough for nature to begin reclaiming it.

My boots touch down on the upper floor of what used to be a flower shop. I can’t help but notice the irony. Dead blooms are scattered everywhere—petals browned and crumbling, stems snapped like bones. Flower pots lie shattered across the warped tiles, akin to the aftermath of a funeral that no one attended.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me,” I mutter, stepping over what looks like a fossilized rat. Raylen would have my ass if I brought back any kind of creepy crawly stowaway in my vest. Or worse, in my pants.

“Pitch black, boys,” Jon mutters.

“Wha–” I start but quickly catch on as King nudges my shoulder, pulling my attention to him as he flicks down his night vision goggles. I guess he's nottoobad.

I lower my night vision goggles, and the world transforms into shades of green and grainy textures. The shop stretches around us in eerie, silent ruin. Tables are half-rotted, vines curl through cracks, and wilted petals are pressed into the dirt like forgotten promises.

We fan out, weapons raised. King takes the rear, while Jon and I sweep opposite walls.

This part steadies me. This is the part that makes sense.

There are no echoes of Raylen’s voice, no shadows shaped like my father lurking in my mind, and no confessions that leave me feeling hollow.

Just silence. Just the mission.

Every footfall is a drumbeat. Every breath tastes like dust and iron. My heart slows—not because I’m calm, but because Ihaveto be. Because control is the only thing that keeps me sharp.

Delilah’s voice crackles in our ears. “You won’t have eyes once you hit the stairs. It's only two stories though and I already spot an opening. Stay close to the light.”

---