Page 37 of Mission Shift

We pressed on, weaving through dense patches of trees and climbing a steep incline. The underbrush snagged at our clothes, slowing us down.

After about thirty minutes of strenuous hiking, we reached level terrain, and I halted, resting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. My lungs burned, and the fatigue had settled deep into my muscles. Braxton leaned against a nearby tree, breathing heavily. The air felt fresh here—lighter somehow. Or maybe it was just the mental weight of crossing that invisible line back there.

“We’re across,” I said, standing upright. “But don’t get comfortable. We’re still in danger. Ukrainian patrols are irregular in this area, but they’re out here. They won’t hesitate to shoot if they think we’re a threat.”

“Got it. Still, though, I feel better now that we’re officially on the other side,” Braxton said, giving me that killer smile of his. His eyes had a spark of self-assurance despite his obvious exhaustion.

The noise of the stream faded behind us, blending with the quiet rustling of the forest. But peacefulness could be deceptive. My gaze swept the trees ahead, every shadow drawing my suspicion as we moved through the forest. But for the first time in hours, my relentless anxiety seemed to ease just a fraction, and I had a glimmer of hope that we had made it out without getting caught.

The forest had grown dim, and each step I took was a battle against my increasing fatigue. Soon we could barely see where we were going. I couldn’t afford to collapse now—not when the stakes were this high.

“We’re close,” I promised over my shoulder. “Just a little further.”

Braxton didn’t reply. He was struggling too, the weight of his pack and the endless trek having worn him down. I’d seen it in his face hours ago—the weariness, the pain—but he kept pushing forward. I had to give him credit. Most people wouldn’t have lasted this long.

Finally, the terrain ahead dipped, revealing what I’d been watching for—an old trench system carved deep into the ground. The walls of the trench were lined with wooden planks, and uneven stacks of sandbags topped the front edge. It wasn’t much, but it was hidden and out of sight. Good enough for tonight.

“Get down there,” I ordered softly. Braxton took a step forward and slid into the trench. I went in just behind him.

The cool air inside hit me immediately, bringing the earthy scent of damp soil with it. Braxton leaned back against the wall, his breathing ragged.

“This’ll do,” I said quietly, moving to check the layout. “But I need to scout the area above. We can’t risk being caught off guard.”

He nodded, his head sagging against the trench wall. “You think anyone else uses this place?”

“Maybe. Although it’s not likely,” I replied, pulling out the GPS. “We’re too far from the active front lines, but there could still be patrols. So stay quiet.”

Handing him the GPS, I narrowed my eyes and leveled him with a stern look. “Listen to me carefully. If I’m not back by sunrise, you leave. Head south. Don’t trust anyone. Turn your phone on only after you’ve put at least six hours between yourself and here. Call for help, but keep moving. Understand?”

“Yeah,” he said, a line of worry forming between his brows.

“If you hear anything—anything other than me calling your name—you run. Don’t play hero, Thorin.”

He grinned, and for reasons I hated to admit, my traitorous body lit up, sending sparks of desire all the way down to my toes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“I’ll call from above when I return. Be listening.”

Without waiting for a response, I climbed out of the trench and disappeared into the forest.

Chapter fourteen

The woods were eerily quiet. I moved slowly along the length of the trench line, methodically checking blind spots and scanning the horizon, listening for anything out of place. I couldn’t pick up any humming of drones, distant voices, or signs of patrols. Just the rustle of tree branches and the occasional chirp of nocturnal birds and bugs. After nearly an hour of careful surveillance, I was satisfied we were in the clear—for now.

When I returned to where I’d left Braxton, I crouched low and called softly, “Thorin.”

He stepped out of the shadows and reached up to help me down. Once I was on solid ground, I straightened and let out a slow breath.

“I didn’t see anything to worry about,” I said, yawning, tired beyond belief. “We should be safe for the night, but I’m nottaking any chances. Keep your gear close and be ready to move if we have to.”

Braxton nodded, then gestured toward the corner of the trench. “Figured we’d need some cover.”

He’d stacked some large tree limbs and brush over one section of the corner, creating a makeshift screen. It was a good improvisation and blended in well enough.

I moved toward the covered area and was relieved to find that he’d set up camp with what little we had. The plastic sheeting was laid out on the ground, with the blanket stretched over it in a reasonably dry spot near the wall. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was better than sleeping on bare dirt.

“Not bad,” I muttered, easing down onto the blanket. My feet throbbed with every move I made, and I couldn’t wait to get off them for a while. God, how I wanted to take my boots off, but I felt it unwise to do so. I needed to be ready to go quickly in case we had to bug out of here.

Braxton sat beside me and handed me one of the water jugs. “You need to drink,” he said simply.

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