Page 32 of Mission Shift

“You ever think you’ll stop and have a normal life?” I asked quietly.

Her eyes hardened, and for a second, I regretted asking, but finally she said, “I gave up on anything normal the day my mother died. I don’t know anything different…and now that my cover’s blown, I’ll always be looking over my shoulder.”

There was no bitterness in her tone; it was just a cold statement of fact. I nodded again, letting the silence settle between us once more.

Daria pushed off the tree and grabbed a few plums, tucking them into the pack on my back. “We’ve had enough of a break. Let’s go.”

I finished the last bite and followed her, the taste of the fruit lingering as we moved into the forest. Though our break had been short, it had given me enough energy to keep pushing forward. And I’d learned a little bit more about this captivating woman. Daria was a puzzle I couldn’t solve, but I wasn’t done trying. Not yet.

Chapter twelve

Our boots crunched through the leaves littering the forest floor. Tall, sturdy trees stretched upward, their trunks spaced enough to give us room to walk side by side. Light filtered through the canopy overhead, casting a dappled pattern of shifting shadows across the ground. It was cooler here, the oppressive heat of the sun lessened by the shade. Fallen branches and patches of moss were scattered across the ground, but the path was manageable. My legs felt like lead, every step sending a dull ache up my calves, but slowing down wasn’t an option. We kept moving, step after step, both of us forging ahead with the kind of exhaustion that left little room for conversation.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on with Daria than just physical weariness. There was a heaviness to her, and although we were navigating a dangerous situation,this disquietude seemed to run deeper. I needed to know more, to understand the woman who’d risked everything to save me. If I could just get her to talk to me, let me in even a little, maybe her walls would start to crack.

Without really thinking about it, I reached for her hand. It was smaller than mine, calloused but warm. She tensed immediately, her fingers stiffening. She looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “What are you doing?” she asked, glancing down at our joined hands.

I chuckled softly. “I’m holding your hand.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

She blinked at me, and one brow quirked up. For a few beats, I thought she might pull away, but she didn’t. Slowly, her hand relaxed in mine. We kept walking in silence until she finally muttered, “Americans are so touchy-feely. This reminds me of some playground crush.”

I grinned. “Really? Maybe Russians just need to learn to lighten up. Or maybe it’s just you,” I teased. “Life’s about the small things, Daria. Not everything has to be driven by some life-or-death purpose. It’s okay to let your guard down and share your feelings.”

She shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. “I don’t do emotions,” she said flatly. “They get in the way and make you weak. People use them to control you—to hurt you.”

I squeezed her hand gently, letting her know I heard the unspoken truth beneath her words. “Doesn’t have to be that way.”

She didn’t respond, but she didn’t let my hand go either.

I glanced over at her. “You ever think about what life might be like if things were…different?”

Her gaze stayed fixed ahead, her brows drawing together slightly. “Different how?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know,” I said carefully. “Like, if you didn’t have to be constantly on guard. If you didn’t have to be some tool like this all the time. You know, having the ability to relax and have some fun. The freedom to do whatever your heart desires?”

She let out a humorless chuckle. “Freedom isn’t something people like me get to have. Not for long, anyway.”

I scrubbed my fingers over my chin. “What do you mean, people like you?”

She sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “I’m Russian—we don’t have a constitution that guarantees our freedoms or the rule of law. We have a dictator who decides everything. I was raised to follow orders. Discipline, control, and strength—those were the only things that mattered. My father made sure of that after my mother…” Her words faded into silence, and her hand became rigid before she forced it to relax.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I said softly, not wanting to push too hard. Still, I wanted her to know I was here to listen.

“No, it’s fine,” she said, though her voice grew a bit remote. “Like I told you, she…died when I was six. After that, my father made sure I understood weakness wasn’t an option. I learned quickly how to survive on my own.”

I swallowed the lump forming in my throat. “I get that,” I said after a moment. “My parents…weren’t really there for me either. My mom tried, but…” I hesitated, then decided to just lay it all out. “She slit her wrists when I was only ten, and things went downhill from there. Eventually, she died two years later from alcohol poisoning. My father didn’t murder her, but he wasn’t a good man, which played a part in her issues. Then, a year later, he passed away from a heart attack. I guess you could say I learned to survive on my own too. If it hadn’t been for my older brother, my little brother and I would have gone completely off the rails. We’ve all dealt with what happened differently, but nomatter what any of us has gotten ourselves into, we always have each other’s backs.”

Daria’s head tilted slightly as she gave me a sidelong glance. There was no pity in her eyes—just quiet understanding. “At least you have your brothers.”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Atticus and Conan. They keep me grounded. Without them, I don’t know where I’d be. There’s nothing like the bond we have.” I let out a sigh of frustration. “They’ve got to be losing their minds about the van getting ambushed and me going missing. I feel like such an asshole for putting them through this.”

“It’s not your fault—shit happens.”

“Maybe, but like you said, I shouldn’t havewaltzed into someone else’s war and tried to play the hero.I didn’t stop and think about how something could actually go wrong—or how that would impact them. I was offered an opportunity to see some of the world, and I seized it.”

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