Page 90 of Broken Sentinel

The drone's presence confirms one thing, though, our mission is far from over. Unity is still hunting, still determined to capture me. The other Haven children still need warning. Haven's Edge still needs protection.

Personal complications will have to wait.

At least, that's what I tell myself as we disappear into the night, even as I feel Trent's gaze like a physical touch across the darkness.

CHAPTER 18

The pre-collapse militarybunker turns out to be perfect for hiding from Unity patrols. It's also perfect for awkward silences.

We've been here eight hours, and Trent and I have managed to exchange exactly ten words since our interrupted moment in the forest. Every time our eyes meet, electricity crackles between us, and we both find somewhere else to look.

Meanwhile, Vex watches everything with those predatory amber eyes, missing nothing.

"Drone patrols have increased," he announces, returning from a scouting mission. "They've established a search grid centered on our last known position."

"Perimeter?" Trent asks, all business despite the dark circles still lingering under his eyes.

"Five-kilometer radius. Expanding."

I examine the makeshift map we've created on the bunker's dusty floor. "They're committing significant resources for just three fugitives."

"Not just fugitives," Vex corrects. "A Splinter security chief,a former elite Sentinel, and a genetic anomaly Unity considers critical to national security."

When he puts it that way, the attention almost seems flattering.

"We need to keep moving," Trent says, studying the map. "The longer we stay in one place?—"

"The easier to track us, yes," Vex interrupts. "But moving without a destination is equally dangerous."

"What about the secondary rendezvous point?" I suggest. "The abandoned settlement Reid mentioned."

Both men consider this.

"Thirty kilometers northeast," Trent calculates. "Through heavily patrolled territory."

"But if we made it," Vex admits, "it would provide secure communications to contact Haven's Edge."

"So we go northeast," I decide. "Through Unity patrols if necessary."

The plan set, we gather our limited supplies. As I check my pack, Trent approaches, close enough that his scent envelops me—clean sweat, detox compound, and something uniquely him that makes my pulse quicken.

"About yesterday," he begins quietly.

"Not now," I cut him off, though my body hums with the memory of his touch. "Mission focus."

He studies me for a moment, then nods once. "Mission focus."

It's our old shorthand from Sentinel days—all emotional complications deferred until after objectives are complete. Except this time, the emotions feel anything but simple.

And my body still remembers exactly how his lips and hands felt.

Howeverypart of him felt.

We exit the bunker as afternoon shadows lengthen, providing decent cover for movement. Vex takes point, his enhanced senses perfect for detecting patrols before they spotus. Trent covers our rear, leaving me in the middle again. The formation makes tactical sense but keeps both men out of my direct sight—a small relief given my conflicted feelings.

The landscape grows more rugged as we push northeast, abandoned settlements occasionally visible in the distance. Evidence of the old world before collapse, before Unity, before everything changed.

"Hold," Vex signals suddenly, dropping into a crouch.

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