Chapter 891:

🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙 🍙

His words were a splash of cold water, pulling her back to their immediate reality. She nodded, her own training reasserting itself. She began scanning the terrain below, her eyes searching for any break in the endless trees.

She saw it first. A faint, silvery reflection in the distance.

“There,” she said, pointing. “A lake. Maybe we can put down in the water.”

A water landing was treacherous, especially at night, but it was infinitely better than being dragged through the treetops and impaled on a branch.

Jarrod assessed their altitude, their rate of descent, and the direction of the wind. “Good eye,” he said, approving her plan.

𝘛𝘳e𝘯𝘥і𝘯𝗴 𝗇𝘰𝘃𝖾𝗅𝗌 𝘰𝗇 𝗴а𝗹𝗻𝘰𝘷e𝗅𝗌.c𝗈m

He began working the toggles with his left hand, expertly manipulating the parachute, trying to guide their slow descent toward the distant shimmer of water.

Caroline could hear the suspension lines groaning under their combined weight, the nylon fibers straining at their limit. She looked up at Jarrod, at the taut muscles in his jaw, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

“Jarrod,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

He glanced down, a flicker of confusion in his eyes. “For what?”

“For what I said in the infirmary. About you and her. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”

He looked at her, his expression softening. The hard edges of the soldier melted away, leaving only the man.

He didn’t say, It’s okay. He didn’t say, I forgive you.

He just leaned down and kissed her again. It was a short, gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the desperate, bruising passion of their freefall. This kiss was an answer. It was acceptance. It was a promise.

When he pulled back, he looked her straight in the eye. “You had every right to doubt me,” he said, his voice serious. “I did lie to you. By omission. When we’re safe… I’ll tell you everything.”

They were getting closer. Caroline could see the surface of the ravine pool now, a vast, shattered mirror of black obsidian reflecting the cold moon. The wind whistled past them, carrying the damp, earthy smell of pine, wet stone, and winter runoff.

A sound like tearing fabric, loud and sharp, ripped through the air above them.

CRACK.

One of the compromised bypass lines, still caught in the damaged span above the rescue system, snapped under the strain.

The rescue basket lurched violently to one side, throwing Caroline into a wild, pendulum-like swing beneath the emergency haul line. The safety officer clipped beside her shouted something she couldn’t catch over the roar of wind and metal.

“Brace!” his voice finally punched through. “Do not grab the line!”

Her heart leaped into her throat. She knew the procedure. The most dangerous part of a water-adjacent recovery was panic. A thrashing casualty could foul the rescue line, drag a responder off balance, or slip a harness before the basket was fully secured.

Her numb fingers curled uselessly against the basket straps.

In the midst of the chaos, as the rig swung toward the dark water below, another voice cut through her helmet comm, surprisingly calm.

“Caroline. Are you scared?”

She froze.

Jarrod.

Not beside her. Not holding her. Not falling with her.

In command.

.

.

.