The safehouse was little more than a concrete box tucked into the side of a mountain, its entrance hidden behind a thick curtain of overgrown pine branches. Inside, it smelled of dust and stale air, like it hadn't been opened in a decade. A single overhead light flickered weakly before deciding to stay on. A narrow cot, a small table, two chairs, and a row of metal cabinets lined the far wall. It wasn't much. It wasn't home. But it was shelter.

Static. That same sharp, crackling emptiness that had followed them for the last two hours. He stopped pacing, jaw tight.

More static. Then silence. The kind that pressed in from every corner of the tiny safehouse.

The mission had gone sideways fast. What was supposed to be a quick retrieval had turned into an ambush, then a firefight, then a desperate retreat through unfamiliar terrain. They'd lost their transport. Their gear. Their line to the rest of the team. The only thing they hadn't lost was each other.