Page 62 of Pursuit of Her

As the team dispersed to prepare equipment, Eve noticed Reagan attempting to stand,her face briefly contorting with pain. Eve moved to her side, offering support.

"You're pushing too hard," Eve said quietly.

"I've operated through worse," Reagan replied.

Eve guided them toward a quieter area. "You're already planning your direct involvement in the operation."

"They're my targets. My mission."

"Ourmission," Eve corrected. "And your body needs time to heal."

"Every hour we delay gives them an opportunity to destroy evidence," Reagan countered.

"And if you tear those sutures again and bleed out during the operation?" Eve challenged. "What happens to the mission then?"

Eve recognized the stubborn determination in Reagan's expression—the same determination that had kept her alive when the system tried to kill her.

"This was always going to end with direct confrontation," Reagan said finally.

"Your presence would compromise the entire operation," Eve countered. "Your professional assessment would say exactly that if this were any other agent."

Reagan's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue the point.

"These men tried to kill you. They stole a decade of our lives," Eve continued softly. "But sacrificing yourself now doesn't serve justice."

"It's not about sacrifice," Reagan insisted.

"Isn't it? Part of you has been prepared to die for this cause since the beginning."

Something flickered in Reagan's eyes, a rare vulnerability. "I never expected to survive completing the list," she admitted quietly. "There wasn't supposed to be an after."

"And now?"

Reagan met her gaze directly. "Now I find myself wanting one."

The simple acknowledgment carried profound weight. For a decade, Reagan had existed as little more than a ghost driven by purpose. Now she stood balanced between that mission and the possibility of something beyond vengeance.

"Then trust me to execute this phase," Eve said, taking Reagan's hand. "You built this network. You gathered this evidence. Let me beyour hands in the field while you heal."

"You're asking me to stay behind while you take all the risk."

"I'm asking you to command the operation strategically, not emotionally. Partners means balance. Sometimes I lead, sometimes you do."

A complex series of emotions crossed Reagan's face—frustration, recognition, reluctant acceptance. Finally, she nodded. "Operational command from base. But I expect continuous communication and immediate extraction if anything shifts away from mission parameters."

"Agreed," Eve said. "Partners?"

Reagan's hand tightened around hers. "Partners."

Eve returned to the displays, studying the schematics with renewed determination. For ten years, Reagan had carried this burden alone. Tomorrow, Eve would shoulder her share of the weight, not just as a former police captain seeking redemption, but as a partner completing a mission that had begun a decade ago when corruption had torn their lives apart.

Twilight blanketed Phoenix Ridge as Eve and Reagan stood on the observation platform of the Lighthouse Tower. This reconnaissance carried substantial risk—two fugitives visiting one of the city's most iconic landmarks—but from this height, they could observe both target buildings while remaining hidden.

"The city looks different from up here," Eve observed, scanning through tactical binoculars. "Smaller."

"Perspective changes everything," Reagan agreed, her injured arm supported in a sling. "You see the patterns clearer from a distance."

The view was spectacular. The cliffs caught the setting sun, their limestone faces transformed to gold. Siren's Bay stretched toward the horizon, fishing boats returning to harbor. The downtown district rose between their position and the waterfront, glass buildings reflecting sunset like flames.

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