They saw Pine Hollow just as the sun was hitting noon—a small, tired town that looked like it had given up somewhere around 1985 and never recovered.
Perfect.
"Papa, this place looks even sadder than the last one," Anaya observed, adjusting her cap as they walked down the main road into town.
"Sad is good. Sad means people mind their own business." Evan scanned the streets with practiced wariness, noting exit routes out of habit.
"Sad means lonely."
"Yeah, well, lonely keeps us alive." He squeezed her hand. "Besides, we've got each other. That's the opposite of lonely."
Anaya was quiet for a moment, her small face scrunched in thought. Evan recognized that expression—working up the courage to say it.
"What's on your mind, kid?" he asked, keeping his tone light. "And don't say 'nothing' because you make the same face your mama makes when she's worried about something."
"I do?"
"Yep. Same exact expression. It's genetic. Or magical. Or—actually, I have no idea how elf genetics work." He stopped, crouched down to her level. "But I know when something's bugging you. So ."
She took a breath. "Every elf has their own special ability. Like Mama's really fast. And you could see inside which you forgot. And I have both their gifts." She looked up at him, uncertainty written across her small face. "But I haven't discovered mine yet. My own special one."
Evan blinked.
"Let me get this straight," he said, fighting back a smile. "We're currently on the run from heavily armed soldiers who want to lock you in a facility and study you . We have approximately seventeen dollars. And you're worried about not having discovered your super-special unique magical ability yet?"
"When you say it like that, it sounds dumb," Anaya mumbled.
"It's not dumb. It's just—" Evan stood, ruffling her hair under the cap. "Kid, you're five. FIVE. You know what I was doing at five? Eating dirt and crying because my favorite crayon broke. You're out here running faster than physics should allow, reading people's souls like they're picture books."
"But—"
"But nothing. You've got time, Anaya. All the time in the world to figure out your special thing." He started walking again, pulling her along. "Besides, maybe your special ability is making grumpy ex-hunters fall in love with you and completely ruin their lives. Because you're really, really good at that."
She giggled despite herself. "That's not a real ability."
"Feels pretty powerful to me. I used to have a simple life—sleep, hunt, repeat. Now I'm a wanted fugitive with a kid who steals my blankets ." He shot her a lopsided grin. "If that's not magic, I don't know what is."
"Papa, you're being silly."
"Told you silly was my specialty." He squeezed her hand. "You'll figure out your thing when you're ready. And when you do, I'll be right there pretending I'm not terrified of whatever new impossible thing you can do. Deal?"
"Deal."
They were maybe fifty feet further into town when Evan saw them.
Military vehicles. Three of them. Parked strategically at different points—one blocking the main road out, one at the motel, one near what looked like the town hall. Not just parked. Positioned. Tactical.
His blood turned to ice.
No. No no no. How did they—
Soldiers were everywhere. At least twenty that he could see, probably more he couldn't. They were doing a systematic sweep—going door to door, checking alleys, moving in coordinated patterns. Professional. Organized. Thorough.
And in the center of it all, standing by the command vehicle like a general surveying his battlefield, was Captain Morrison.
Even from this distance, Evan could see the cold satisfaction on his face.
"Papa?" Anaya's small hand tightened in his. "Papa, why are there soldiers?"
"Because Morrison's smarter than I gave him credit for," Evan muttered. He pulled Anaya behind a rusted-out car, his mind racing. "He didn't just follow us. He predicted us. Figured out where we'd go and got here first."
"What do we do?"
That was the question, wasn't it?
The town was completely locked down. One main road in, one out—both blocked. The soldiers were working a grid pattern, moving methodically through the town. In maybe ten minutes, they'd reach this street. In twenty, they'd have searched every building.
Going back the way they came meant exposing themselves on open road. Forward was soldiers. Left and right were just houses that would become traps the moment they entered.
They were in a killbox. Morrison had designed this perfectly.
Think, Cross. Think.
The tree line was about two hundred yards to the left, past two streets and at least three search teams. Even if they made it ,the soldiers would see them, track them, follow them in.
Unless...
"Anaya," Evan said quietly, his mind forming a plan he hated. "Listen very carefully. You see those woods?"
She nodded, her amber eyes wide with fear.
"I need you to run there. As fast as you can. Use your elf speed—all of it. Don't hold back."
"But they'll see me!"
"That's the point. You'll be so fast they won't be able to track you. By the time they realize what happened, you'll be deep in the woods." Evan gripped her shoulders. "Then you hide. Somewhere good. Somewhere I can find you later."
"What about you?"
"I'm going to make sure every soldier in this town is looking at me instead of you." He tried to smile. Probably failed. "I'll lead them away, lose them, then come find you."
"Papa, no! They'll catch you!"
"Not if I'm smart. And I'm very smart." Another lie.
"Anaya, please. This is the only way. If we stay together, we both get caught. If you run—really run—you can make it."
Anaya's eyes filled with tears. "I don't want to leave you."
"I know, baby. But you have to trust me. Can you do that?"
She looked at him for a long moment, reading him the way she always did. Seeing the slim chance this might actually work.
"I'll wait for you," she said finally. "In the woods. I'll wait."
"Good girl. Now when I say go—"
A soldier appeared at the end of the street. Saw them. His eyes widened.
"CONTACT!" the soldier shouted into his radio. "TARGETS SPOTTED! NORTHEAST CORNER, MAIN STREET!"
Time slowed. Evan saw more soldiers emerging, heard Morrison's voice over the radio: "All teams converge. I want them alive. Both of them."
"GO!" Evan shoved Anaya toward the tree line. "RUN! NOW!"
Anaya ran.
And she was fast. Impossibly fast. Her small form covering ground like she was flying rather than running. Elf speed—full power, no holding back.
The soldiers saw her. Tried to track her. But she was too fast, moving in ways that defied physics, zigzagging between buildings with precision no human child could manage.
"What the—"
"SHOOT THE TIRES! BLOCK HER PATH!"
She was going to make it.
And now every soldier in Pine Hollow was watching her run.
Which meant they weren't watching Evan.
He took off in the opposite direction, sprinting toward the center of town. Toward Morrison. Drawing attention, making himself the bigger threat.
"CROSS! WE HAVE CROSS!"
Now they were watching him. Perfect.
Evan ran hard, his injured back screaming in protest. Behind him, he heard boots pounding, soldiers coordinating pursuit. The organized chaos of a tactical team doing what they were trained to do.
"Team Alpha, pursue Cross! Team Bravo, intercept the asset before she reaches the woods! Team Charlie, establish perimeter!"
Evan ducked between buildings, vaulted a fence, crashed through someone's backyard. Professional soldiers behind him, gaining ground because they were fresh and he was exhausted.
But he kept running. Had to keep running. Had to keep them focused on him and away from Anaya.
He cut through an alley, emerged onto a side street—
—and ran straight into three soldiers who'd circled around to cut him off.
Evan tried to pivot, change direction. One of the soldiers tackled him. They hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs.
"Got him! West alley, we've got—"
Evan got his elbow into the soldier's face, broke free, scrambled up. Kept moving.
But more soldiers were coming. From every direction now. Six. Eight. Ten.
He was surrounded.
Morrison's voice crackled over multiple radios simultaneously: "Cross, stop. There's nowhere to go. Stand down and we'll talk about this like civilized people."
Evan kept running anyway.
Someone hit him from the side—a tackle that sent him sprawling. Before he could recover, two more soldiers were on him, pinning his arms.
"SECURE HIM! WHERE'S THE ASSET?"
"Lost visual in the tree line, sir! She's fast—faster than anything human. We can't track her."
"FIND HER! I want every available unit searching those woods NOW!"
Evan struggled, but there were too many of them. Strong hands holding him down. His vision swam.
"Get him up," Morrison's voice. Closer now. "I want him conscious for this."
They hauled Evan to his feet. Morrison approached, his expression cold and satisfied.
"Hello, Cross. It's been a while."
Evan spat blood. "Go to hell."
"Probably will, eventually. But not today." Morrison smiled. "Clever girl, running like that. Unfortunate for you both that I anticipated this exact scenario. We have thermal imaging, tracking dogs, aerial surveillance standing by. She can't hide forever."
"She doesn't have to. Just long enough."
"Long enough for what? For you to mount a daring rescue?" Morrison laughed. "Look around, Cross. You're done. Finished. And once we find the asset—" He smirked"—you'll both be coming back with me. Though I suspect you'll be spending your return journey in considerably more restraints than she will."
A soldier ran up. "Sir! We've established a perimeter around the forest. Teams are moving in now."
"Excellent. Use the thermal scopes. She'll light up like a Christmas tree with that elf biology."
Evan's heart sank. He hadn't thought of thermal imaging.He tried to break free again. Got punched in the stomach for his trouble. Went down hard, gasping.
"Restrain him properly," Morrison ordered. "And someone check him for injuries. Command wants him alive enough to stand trial."
Hands grabbed him, zip-tied his wrists behind his back. Someone was checking him over: " Bruises, possible cracked ribs, head trauma, lacerations—"
Evan's vision was blurring. Shock, maybe. Or just his body giving up after running on adrenaline for too long.
I'm sorry, kid. I'm so sorry.
"—move him to the command vehicle—"
"—medical team standing by—"
The voices were getting distant. Muffled. Evan's consciousness was slipping, his body shutting down.
They were dragging him somewhere. He couldn't resist anymore. Couldn't fight. Couldn't even stay awake.
Anaya. I'm sorry. I'm so—
Darkness pulled him under like a wave, cold and absolute.
Consciousness returned slowly, in fragments.
Pain first. Everything hurt. His ribs, his head, his back, his wrists still bound behind him.
Then sounds. Voices. Morrison talking to someone: "—expand the search grid. She's in there somewhere—"
Evan tried to open his eyes. Couldn't. Too heavy. Too tired.
He was moving. Being carried? No—dragged. His feet scraping against dirt.
"—just leave him. He's dead weight—"
"Morrison wants him conscious. Get him to the—"
The voices cut off abruptly. Sounds of confusion. Someone shouting. Then—
Gunfire?
Evan's eyes snapped open. He was on the ground behind some kind of cover—a dumpster maybe? Everything was blurry. Soldiers running past. More shouting.
"SHOTS FIRED! NORTHEAST SECTOR!"
"WHO'S SHOOTING?"
"UNKNOWN ASSAILANT! CIVILIAN WITH A—"
A diversion. Someone was creating a diversion.
Hands grabbed Evan—different hands, gentler—and pulled him deeper into cover. A voice, close to his ear: "Stay quiet. Don't move."
Evan tried to focus on the face. Couldn't. Everything was swimming.
More gunfire. Morrison's voice screaming orders. Soldiers mobilizing toward the source of the shots.
The hands were working on his zip-ties now, cutting them. His wrists came free and he nearly collapsed forward.
"Easy. I've got you."
That voice. Familiar. Where did he know that voice from?
"Can you stand?"
"No," Evan managed. "Can't... Anaya. Have to find—"
"Gather your strength first. Then we'll get the girl."
Evan's vision was clearing slightly. He could make out a shape crouched beside him. Male. Tall. Dark hair and beard.
"Who—"
"It's me, brother. Yusuf."
Evan blinked. The face came into focus.
Yusuf Hassan.
They'd trained together. Worked together years ago. Been friends before Yusuf had walked away from the whole program, declared it "morally corrupt," and vanished.
Evan hadn't seen him in years.
And now he was here. How could he be there. *No, it is a disguise. *
Evan's first instinct was suspicion. His fist swung up, weak but aimed at Yusuf's face.
Yusuf caught it easily. "Still paranoid. Good. That'll keep you alive."
"What—how—"
"I've been looking for you. Ever since I heard about what happened at the compound." Yusuf glanced around the corner of their cover. Soldiers were still mobilizing toward the gunfire—a distraction that wouldn't last long. "We need to move. Can you walk?"
"The girl—"
"I know about the girl." Yusuf met his eyes. "But right now, you need to gather enough strength to actually help her. You're no good to her dead or captured."
"Morrison—"
"Is currently distracted by my colleague creating chaos on the other side of town. But that won't last. We have maybe three minutes." Yusuf pulled Evan's arm over his shoulder. "Now come on. My truck's two blocks away. Can you make it?"
"I—" Evan tried to stand. His legs gave out.
"Fantastic." Yusuf caught him, taking his full weight. "Okay, new plan. I carry you. You try not to die. Deal?"
They moved together, Yusuf practically carrying Evan's dead weight. Behind them, the sounds of Morrison's operation continued—orders being shouted, soldiers searching.
Evan's consciousness was fading again. His body had nothing left.
"Stay with me, Cross," Yusuf muttered. "Just a little further."
"Can't... too tired..."
"Yeah, well, die later. Right now, walk."
They turned a corner. Then another. Everything was blurring together—pain and exhaustion and fear for Anaya overwhelming everything else.
A truck appeared ahead.
"Almost there," Yusuf said.
Evan's legs gave out completely. He collapsed, dragging Yusuf down with him.
" Okay." Yusuf adjusted his grip, now fully carrying Evan. "Just... don't die yet, okay? Wallahi ! I went through a lot of trouble to find you."
They reached the truck. Evan slurred, consciousness slipping. "Have to... she's alone..."
"First listen—"
Evan didn't hear the rest. The darkness pulled him under completely.