The dawn was colder than Nathan expected, each breath visible as a pale mist curling in the dim light. They moved quickly and quietly through the forest, guided by Caleb's steady hand. The remnants of the night's skirmish were etched on their faces—scratches, exhaustion, and something else: determination.
Scarlett adjusted her grip on the tablet that held the damning evidence against Grayson. It felt heavier than its weight suggested, as though the secrets it carried bore down on her shoulders.
"We're nearing the rendezvous point," Caleb whispered, his voice barely audible. He gestured toward a ridge ahead, where the faint outline of a vehicle was visible.
"That's our way out." He said as he pulled Scarlett forward.
As they crept closer to the ridge, Scarlett's grip on Nathan's hand tightened. She could feel his tension, a taut wire ready to snap.
"Something's not right," she murmured, her voice trembling.
