Page 52 of Collateral Damage
It’s the truth. But as we turn back toward the cabin, I memorize the slope of the ground and the sightlines to the porch.
Just in case.
Ava
By the time we reach the cabin, the morning light has turned brittle, reflecting off the snow with a glare so sharp it makes my eyes ache. The silence of the mountain follows us inside, heavy and expectant.
Silas sheds his coat, the heavy fabric hitting the chair with a dull thud, but he doesn't sit. He just stands in the center of the room, his shoulders a rigid line of tension under his sweater. The air around him feels charged, like the static before a lightning strike. He looks out the window, his profile etched in the harsh, unforgiving light—pale, shadowed, and dangerously tired.
"Ava." His voice is quiet. "You need to know how to use this."
I cross to where he's standing by the small table. He pulls out the satellite phone and sets it down between us.
"Silas—"
"If something happens." He's not looking at me. "If I'm... compromised. You need to be able to call for help."
The word 'compromised' hangs in the air between us.
"Show me," I say quietly.
He picks up the phone, his hands steady but deliberate, like he's concentrating too hard on the simple motion.
"Power button here. Hold it for three seconds." He demonstrates, then hands it to me. "You try."
I take it and follow his instructions until the screen lights up.
"Good." He swipes to the contacts. There's only one. "Caleb. You press here, it connects directly."
I nod.
"If you have to use this, tell him exactly where we are. He already has the coordinates, but you confirm you’re still on site. Tell him what's happened. And no matter what, you stay on the line until he tells you what to do next."
His eyes are intense, locked on mine, making sure I understand.
I draw a slow breath. “And if he doesn’t answer?”
“You keep calling.” His voice firms. “You don’t assume anything. Satellites drift. Weather interferes. You stay on it until you hear a voice.”
Something tightens in my chest. “And if I can’t get through at all?”
His jaw sets. “Then you stay put,” he says. “You don’t move locations. You don’t change anything that makes it harder for my team to find you. Because they will find you, Ava.”
I look down at the phone, the screen dark and cold in my palm, then back up at him. “I believe you.”
He studies my face for a long second, his eyes searching mine with an intensity that makes my skin heat. “There are things… people… situations that can be complex.”
I fold my arms across my chest, the wool of my sweater scratchy against my skin. “You think I can’t understand complexity?”
He shakes his head, a frustrated motion that sends a stray lock of hair falling over his forehead. “What I meant was that…” He pauses, letting out a low, ragged breath that hitches in the quiet room. “Evil men are getting worse.”
I nod, the verse echoing in my head. “We were warned. Second Timothy.”
“Right.” His jaw tightens, a muscle leaping in his cheek. “That’s why I err on the side of caution. I expect the worst from people. I plan for it.”
Something shifts in my chest, a heavy, sinking sensation. This isn’t just about procedure or his jaded view of the world. He’s shielding me from more than just text messages.
I study the lines etched around his eyes, the deep shadows that reveal the extent of his fatigue. “What aren’t you telling me? Do you have news about Reagan?”
