Page 13 of Echo: Burn
"I heard the explosions." Her eyes find mine, sizing me up with an analyst's precision. "You're the veterinarian. The one they're hunting."
I glance at Kane. Clearly, news travels fast down here.
"Guilty." I force steadiness into my voice. "Though I'm starting to think saving that dog was the worst decision of my life."
"Or the best one." Sarah moves closer, each step clearly painful. "Odin's evidence. He can lead us to whatever the Committee's hiding. Whatever's worth killing us all to protect."
The implications settle over me like snow—cold, inevitable, suffocating. This isn't just about me anymore. It's about what Odin knows.
"They'll keep coming," I say, looking between Kane and Sarah. "Won't they?"
Sarah's smile is bitter as winter. "Until we're all dead or they are. There's no middle ground with the Committee. They don't negotiate. They don't compromise. They erase problems."
"Then we erase them first." The words surprise me as much as anyone. But standing here, I realize I'm not the woman who fled Chicago six years ago. That woman ran from monsters. This woman is tired of running.
Kane studies me with those damaged, knowing eyes. "You understand what you're saying? There's no walking away from this. No going back to your veterinary practice and pretending none of this happened."
"I've been running for six years," I tell him quietly. "From Jack. From the life I thought I wanted. From everything. I'm done running. Whatever comes next, I face it standing still."
His expression changes—respect maybe, or recognition. Understanding between people who've both learned that sometimes the only way out is through.
"Welcome to Echo Ridge," he says again, but this time it sounds less like a warning and more like a promise—it’s the first time I’ve felt the word, ‘welcome’ directed at me instead of the dog.
The Committee is out there somewhere, regrouping in the storm. But they're no closer to finding this place than they were before. We're safe here, hidden deep in the mountain where no one will ever find us.
Inside this fortress, surrounded by broken men and dangerous secrets, I finally feel something I haven't felt in six years.
Safe.
The thought should terrify me. Instead, it feels like coming home to a place I never knew existed.
Kane's hand is still on my shoulder, warm through the body armor. Our eyes hold for a beat too long, and I see the question in his. See the want carefully controlled beneath command. See the man behind the scars wondering if I see him too.
I see him. The man beneath the scars and the command mask. The warrior who came for me in a blizzard when he didn't have to.
His hand is still warm on my shoulder. I should step back. Put distance between us and this thing building in the space neither of us is acknowledging.
I don't move.
Whatever happens next, I'm done running.
4
KANE
She doesn't move.
I should step back. Should put distance between us and whatever the hell this is that's building in the space we're both pretending doesn't exist. Instead, I stand here like an idiot with my hand still on her shoulder, looking at her while she watches me with an intensity I don't want to examine too closely.
The smart play is to send her away. Get her off this mountain, out of Montana, somewhere the Committee can't find her. Protocol Seven means scorched earth—they'll burn through every connection, every possibility, until she's ash and memory.
But standing here in the aftermath of a firefight, with the memory of gunfire still fresh and her hands steady despite the adrenaline crash, I know she won't go. I saw it when she put rounds through trained operatives without hesitation. Saw it in the way she stitched my head wound with surgeon's precision while Committee assets converged on our position.
Dr. Willa Hart doesn't run anymore.
Which means she's going to get herself killed.
I let my hand fall away and put space between us, letting the cold air fill the gap. "Get some rest, Doc. You’ll find severalempty rooms down the hall. Pick one. We'll talk strategy once everyone's assembled."
