Page 67 of Echo: Line
I watch her. Can't help it. The way she sits perfectly still while Willa works. The way her jaw sets when the pain hits but she refuses to show it. The way her eyes track every person in the room, evaluating threats even here in relative safety.
She's not the woman I met in that cabin. That woman was all profiler instinct and analytical distance. This woman is someone who's learned to fight. To survive. To make impossible choices and live with the consequences.
Something shifts in my chest. Recognition, maybe. I'm not protecting her anymore. She doesn't need protection. She needs backup. Support. Someone to cover her six while she covers mine.
The realization should scare me. Instead it feels like something clicking into place. Something that was always meant to happen but I was too damaged to see until now.
"You're both lucky," Willa says, checking my ribs and wound with efficient pressure. "Could have been a lot worse."
Could have been dead. The words hang unspoken between us.
Kane leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. The whole team crowds into what serves as both medical bay and briefing room. Tommy has his laptop set up on the counter. Sarah reviews tactical footage on a tablet. Stryker and Rourke stand near the window, weapons within reach even here.
"How did they find us?" Kane's question cuts through the post-mission quiet.
Tommy pulls up satellite imagery on his screen. "I've been running the data since extraction. The Committee's surveillance capabilities are more advanced than we estimated. They're using predictive AI modeling combined with real-time satellite tracking."
"Explain." My ribs ache where Willa's pressing, but I keep my voice level.
"They can't track our vehicles directly because we're using clean plates and no GPS. But they can predict likely movement patterns based on tactical doctrine." Tommy brings up a map showing probability zones. "Once they flagged Agent Ward at the gas station, the AI calculated your most likely response options. Set up ambush positions at the highest probability locations."
"That's impossible," Stryker says. "That level of predictive accuracy requires processing power beyond anything we've seen."
"Kessler." The name tastes like metal and blood. "He's been building this for years. Using Committee resources to develop next-generation surveillance tech."
Sarah nods. "Tracks with intel we've gathered. The Committee isn't operating on traditional surveillance anymore. They've moved beyond what most agencies have access to."
"So what do we do?" Delaney's voice carries across the cramped room. She's still on the table, letting Willa bandage her palms, but her focus is sharp. Not asking for permission. Asking for strategy. "If they can predict our movements, how do we operate?"
There it is again. That shift. She's not asking if we'll keep fighting. She's asking how. Already thinking tactically. Already planning next moves.
Stryker notices it too. I catch the way he glances at her with something like approval. Rourke's expression doesn't change but he nods slightly when she speaks. Even Sarah, who's been quietly skeptical of bringing an outsider this deep into operations, looks at Delaney with new assessment.
"We get unpredictable." Kane straightens from the doorframe. "Tommy, can you develop countermeasures?"
"Already working on it. Randomization protocols. False movement patterns. Digital noise to confuse their algorithms."His fingers move across the keyboard without him looking down. "It'll take time to implement fully, but I can have basic protocols ready within forty-eight hours."
"Do it." Kane's attention shifts to the rest of us. "Until then, we operate under assumption that the Committee can track major movements. Randomize routes. Use multiple vehicles. No patterns they can exploit."
"Echo Base itself?" Rourke asks.
"Still secure," Sarah confirms. "They'd need direct satellite targeting to pinpoint it, and that would require resources even Kessler doesn't have access to. The location is safe. It's mobile operations they can predict."
The knot in my chest loosens. Echo Base isn't compromised. The team isn't exposed. We're fighting an enemy with better technology than we estimated, but our foundation holds.
"Get some rest," Kane orders. "Forty-eight hours then we reconvene for next phase planning." His eyes land on me and Delaney. "You've earned time to decompress. Use it."
The team disperses to various corners of the safe house. Willa finishes with Delaney's bandages and moves to check Stryker's shoulder. Tommy stays hunched over his laptop, already deep into code. Kane and Sarah talk in low voices near the window.
Delaney slides off the medical table. Crosses to where weapon maintenance supplies are laid out on a side counter. She picks up her disassembled pistol and starts cleaning with careful precision. The movements are exact. Methodical. Field strip, clean the barrel, check the firing pin, oil the slide, reassemble.
Her father taught her well, and those early lessons were honed by eight years with the FBI. Now the ritual grounds her the same way it grounds the rest of us. Gives her hands something to do while her mind processes survival.
I move to stand beside her. Close enough to feel her warmth but giving her space to work. The silence between us is comfortable. We've moved past the point where every moment needs filling with words.
"You okay?" I ask finally.
She doesn't look up from the slide in her hands. "Alive. That counts."
