Page 33 of Rogue Hope
“Clearly not.” Frustration edged his whisper. “Is this about trust? Because if you can’t compartmentalize personal history for fifteen minutes?—”
“I have lupus, Finn!”
The words burst between them like a flashbang—sudden, disorienting, leaving momentary blindness in their wake. He froze, the revelation hitting with physical force. His head spun wildly, grasping desperately at fragmented memories of the term. An autoimmune condition? Chronic? Painful? Dangerous?
Zara’s expression was one of clear horror, eyes wide and panicked, unmistakably regretting the confession. His chesttightened painfully. She’d obviously never intended him to know.
Her breath came rapid and shallow, her vulnerability slicing through him quicker than any knife. She was exposed, emotionally raw, and he had no clue how to respond, what to say, or even how to help. All he knew was the mission was still unfolding, their lives at stake, and now they were both off balance in the worst possible moment. Echoes of approaching footsteps drew nearer, each step ratcheting up the urgency to move, to hide, to survive.
“Patrol incoming,” he whispered.
Zara made a small noise.
He met her gaze, seeing mirrored panic and vulnerability there, neither knowing what to do or say next as the footsteps grew closer.
18
What had she done?
Zara’s heart hammered relentlessly, her confession echoing painfully in her ears. Of all the people she could have accidentally told—Finn?
Her stomach twisted with horror. Finn, the man who had shattered her trust beyond repair. The man least deserving of her vulnerability, now held one of her most guarded secrets.
She saw the shock in his eyes, desperation flickering across his expression.
He opened his mouth, clearly struggling for words, but Zara immediately cut him off, desperate to claw back some semblance of control.
“Forget it,” she snapped, voice brittle. “Patrol’s coming. We have a mission window to hit.”
Finn hesitated for the briefest second before nodding sharply.
Every step sent a jagged pulse of pain through her body, but she refused to let it show.
“There they are,” Finn whispered sharply, pressing her gently yet urgently into the shadows beneath a rocky overhang.
Zara tensed instinctively, acutely aware of Finn’s presence—so close she could feel his breathing, slow and steady.
The patrol passed nearby, boots crunching softly over gravel, their voices casual, unaware of the intruders only meters away. Zara counted silently until the sounds faded, her body screaming in protest from staying frozen too long.
“Clear,” Finn whispered, voice taut with controlled tension. “Follow exactly where I step. Pressure sensors ahead.”
She nodded sharply, each movement deliberate, ignoring the intense throbbing that surged through her body. She fixed her gaze on Finn’s footsteps, mimicking them precisely, trusting him in this small operational detail despite the deep personal fissure between them.
As they reached the hidden maintenance door camouflaged within the rugged mountainside, Zara’s pulse quickened with familiar adrenaline. Finn began bypassing the security codes, his fingers deft and precise. She checked her watch, voice steady despite the pain and lingering embarrassment from earlier.
“Ten minutes to reset.”
The lock clicked softly, and Finn swung the door inward, revealing the dimly lit maintenance corridor beyond. Zara stepped inside, breathing slightly easier as her feet touched smooth concrete. The brief reprieve from uneven terrain was a small mercy.
He glanced back at her, assessing her carefully, hesitation evident in his eyes. “Can you maintain operational pace?”
“Yes,” she replied firmly, meeting his gaze with stubborn determination. She wouldn’t let him see her weakness—not again. “Let’s move.”
They continued swiftly, reaching the service elevator. Finn paused, reconsidering their route. “We should use the elevator instead of stairs. Less physical strain.”
Zara almost protested out of reflex but recognized the wisdom in his suggestion. “Risk of bottleneck?”
“Acceptable,” he said calmly, the subtext clear yet unspoken.
