Page 35 of Echo: Line
"I know." She passes me the bottle. "Your turn."
The water is warm and tastes faintly of plastic, but it's wet and that's all that matters. I take three careful swallows and cap it.
"How long do we wait?" she asks.
"Until Kane can extract us." I settle back against the cave wall, letting my body relax incrementally. Still alert but not wound quite so tight. "Assuming the Committee doesn't lock down the entire region."
"And if they do?"
"Then we walk out. Stay off roads, use the terrain, move at night. Three days to the nearest friendly territory if we push hard."
She's quiet for a moment. Then: "You've done this before."
"Variations on the theme. Escape and evasion is standard training. Living it for eight months straight is the advanced course."
"How are you so calm?" The question carries genuine curiosity, not accusation. "I'm FBI. I've been through tactical training, high-stress situations, active shooter scenarios. But this..." She trails off.
"Practice. Lots of practice." I adjust position, trying to find a comfortable angle that doesn't pull the wound. "You learnto compartmentalize. Put the fear somewhere else, deal with it later. Right now, being afraid doesn't help either of us survive."
"Where do you put it?"
"In a box. Way down deep. Along with everything else that doesn't serve the mission."
"And when the mission's over?"
"You open the box. Deal with what's inside. Or you don't, and it deals with you eventually." I can't see her face, but she's quiet, thinking it through. "Your training taught you technique. Experience teaches you application. You're doing fine, Delaney. Better than fine."
"I shot at people while helping a federal prisoner escape."
"I know."
"I've never..." She stops. Starts again. "I've drawn my weapon on the job. Twice. Never fired it at anyone. And then yesterday I just... acted. Didn't think. Didn't hesitate."
"Hesitation gets you killed. You made the right call."
"It doesn't feel right."
"It's not supposed to." I let silence settle between us for a moment. "Taking a life changes you. Even when it's justified. Even when there's no other choice. You'll carry those two men with you. But you'll also carry the knowledge that you're capable of protecting yourself when it matters. That has value."
"Is that what you tell yourself? After all the people you've killed?"
No judgment in her voice. Just a question from someone trying to understand a world she never wanted to be part of.
"I tell myself I'm still alive. My team is still alive. The people I protected are still alive. Whether that balances the scales..." I shrug, knowing she can probably feel the movement. "I'll let you know when I'm dead."
More silence. Comfortable now. The kind that comes from shared experience and honest conversation.
"Tell me about Echo Ridge," she says eventually. "About Kane."
"What do you want to know?"
"The files said he was Delta Force. Crete operation went bad, handler sold out his team. Three dead, four survivors who went underground." Her voice carries the professional assessment of someone who's spent years profiling targets. "But the files didn't explain why burned operators would follow him. Why you'd let them torture you rather than give him up."
I consider how much to tell her. How much she needs to know versus how much I'm willing to share. But she saved my life. She's burned her career to ashes for me. She's earned honesty.
"Kane saved us. Not just pulled us out of fire—though he did that. He gave us purpose when we had nothing. Showed us we weren't alone. That the people hunting us were the real enemy, not each other."
"You love him."
