They were leaving.
The weight of it settled over Mia like the cool night air as she stood in the hallway, watching the others quietly slip into their roles, everyone moving with careful precision. Bags packed. Maps folded. Weapons—actual weapons—secured. It all felt so surreal, as if she had wandered into the wrong life and somehow couldn't find the exit.
They would soon be off on a journey to a remote island, a journey she never imagined she'd take unless it involved sunbathing and cocktails on a vacation. Now, instead of swimsuits and sandals, she had duct tape and radios. The absurdity of it wasn't lost on her.
Mia shifted her backpack over her shoulder, fingers curling tightly around the strap. A buzz of nerves simmered under her skin, but she tried to keep it together. There was no space left for doubt or fear—not when everything depended on this.
They had to pull it off. They would pull it off. Right? She thought to herself
