"Well, now you do." Reed pushed off the fence. "Come on. Formation's starting soon."
They walked back toward the barracks. The morning air was crisp, the compound stirring around them, and Hudson felt about thirty pounds lighter than he had an hour ago.
Formation was already being called when they got back. Hudson fell into line automatically, muscle memorytaking over while his brain was still two steps behind. His eyes found Shaw without meaning to—two spots to his left, eyes forward, spine straight, face revealing absolutely nothing.
Hudson looked away. Then looked back.
Shaw's shoulders were set slightly higher than usual. There was a tension in the set of his mouth that Hudson had learned to read over the past weeks, the one that meant he was running calculations behind his eyes, working through variables, assigning probability to outcomes. He did it during exercises when things went sideways. He was doing it now.
Hudson had told him they were done and left him there, without letting him get a word in. He had meant it when he said it. Or thought he had. Panic had a way of sounding like conviction in the moment. But standing here now, fifteen feet away, watching Shaw perform composure for an audience?—
He needed to talk to him. Let him know about Briggs and Reed. Tell him that he didn't mean it—that ‘we're done’ was panic talking, not him.
He kept his eyes forward and didn't let himself consider why that last part felt like the most urgent thing of all.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HUDSON
The briefingthe following morning covered a two-day equipment transport exercise. Teams of two would move eighty pounds of gear and simulated intelligence materials from Point A to Point B and back, approximately twenty klicks apart through rough terrain and elevation changes. There was an old ranger station at the halfway point where they'd shelter overnight, assuming they made it that far before dark.
Each team drew a sealed envelope at the end of the briefing: their assigned route and overnight shelter. No two the same.
Master Sergeant Chen started calling out pairs. "Assignment’s based on current rankings. Top two together, next two together, and so on."
Hudson's stomach dropped.
Well, shit.
On one hand, they needed to talk. Reed knew about them. Briggs was making threats. This whole thing felt like it was five seconds from blowing up.
On the other hand, Hudson had exactly zero self-control when Shaw was within a ten-foot radius, and two days alone was basically asking for trouble. Unless Shaw acted all responsible and shit.
He glanced across the room and found Shaw staring at him.
Okay then—trouble it was.
Hudson's brain tore through about fifteen different scenarios in the span of three seconds, most of which involved significantly less hiking than the assignment required.
He really needed to focus.
They geared up, checking equipment, reviewing maps, taking inventory of what they'd be hauling. Other pairs did the same around them, voices low, movements efficient. The exercise was straightforward—move heavy shit across distance—but the weight and terrain would make it demanding.
Briggs walked past with his pack. "Have fun out there, girls."
When Hudson's hand tightened on his gear strap, Shaw shot him a look,and Hudson forced himself to let it go. Not worth it. Not right now.
He caught Reed’s eye from the other side of the room. His expression hovered somewhere between concerned and amused. Hudson just shrugged back. It wasn’t his fault they had been paired again.
Twenty minutes later, they sat in the back of a truck heading toward the starting points. Nine other pairs scattered among them, everyone focused on their own prep.
Hudson sat across from Shaw, who studied the map with intense focus. He had his jacket off and his sleeves rolled to the elbows. His fingers moved across the paper, tracing elevation, following routes. Hudson watched the tendons on his tattooed forearms shift with each smallmovement, and thought about how those hands had felt on him a few days ago.
The truck stopped and so did his daydreaming. Perfect timing.
They both jumped down into the cold afternoon air. The packs were already there waiting for them. When the truck pulled away to drop off the next pair, they were left isolated at the trailhead.
The tree line started immediately—dense pine, the kind that blocked the sky and held the snow in heavy clumps on their branches. Further up, above where the pines thinned, the terrain opened into an exposed rock face and ridgeline, grey-white against a flat winter sky. The wind up there would cut bone.
