The reef is quieter at night.
Or maybe it just feels that way when you’re not supposed to be standing on it.
I keep my hands empty when I approach the shoreline.
No rifle. No sidearm.
Just skin and breath and the weight of what I’ve already done.
Jake Sully is standing at the edge of the water when I find him. Broad shoulders. Tail cutting slow through the air. He doesn’t turn when he hears me step onto the sand.
“I was wonderin’ how long it’d take you,” he says without looking back.
I stop a few paces behind him.
“This isn’t about you,” I answer.
He snorts softly. “Everything’s about me when a former marine walks onto my beach unarmed.”
The tide slides up and retreats between us.
I don’t waste time.
“I need your help.”
That gets him to turn.
Fully.
Eyes sharp.
“With what?”
I hesitate just long enough to feel it in my chest.
“They’ve got her.”
Jake’s expression doesn’t change.
“Who.”
I swallow once.
“The blind girl.”
Nothing.
“She used to live here,” I push. “Wind Trader. Pale purple. White hair. She used to sit on the shore weaving.”
Recognition flickers.
“The one the reef boys messed with,” he says slowly.
“Yeah.”
His gaze hardens. “You took her.”
“We took her,” I correct. “She was leverage.”
The word tastes wrong now.
“And now?” he asks.
“They turned her into something they can study.”
Jake doesn’t blink.
“They filed her as released,” I continue. “She’s not. She’s in scientific custody. Designated test subject.”
The wind shifts.
He studies me carefully.
“Why come to me.”
Because I crossed a line.
Because I chose her.
Because I can’t undo it.
“They’re escalating,” I say instead. “Neural mapping. Sensory isolation cycles. They’re pushing to figure out how she compensates.”
“And you suddenly care.”
I step closer, lowering my voice.
“I’ve always cared.”
Jake’s tail stills.
“Why.”
There it is.
The question I knew was coming.
Because she’s blind.
Because she listens to my boots.
Because she swishes her tail when I walk in.
Because one night on shift we stopped pretending the glass meant anything.
Because I chose her.
“She’s mine,” I say quietly.
Not ownership.
Bond.
Jake goes very still.
“You understand what that means.”
“Yes.”
“You understand what that makes you.”
I don’t look away.
“Yes.”
The tide rolls in again.
“You bonded inside containment,” he says flatly.
“Yes.”
“And you think I’m just gonna help you walk her out of there.”
“No,” I answer. “I think you’ll help me burn the right part of it down.”
Silence stretches between us.
“Quaritch,” Jake says.
“He’s watching.”
“How close.”
“Close enough.”
Jake exhales slowly through his nose.
“You’re asking me to move against a facility that’s still operational. That means retaliation.”
“I know.”
“And if this goes wrong, it doesn’t just cost you.”
“I know.”
His eyes narrow slightly.
“Why not run.”
Because she’s still in that room.
Because she listens for my boots.
Because if I disappear, they isolate her.
“I can’t leave her there,” I say.
Jake studies me long enough that I feel stripped down to bone.
“You chose this,” he says finally.
“Yes.”
“You chose her.”
“Yes.”
He turns back toward the water for a moment, looking out across the reef.
When he speaks again, his voice is lower.
“You get one chance. We do this clean. We do it smart.”
Relief doesn’t hit.
Resolve does.
“I don’t need clean,” I say. “I need her breathing.”
Jake’s jaw tightens.
“Then you’d better be ready for what comes after.”
I nod once.
Behind my ribs, everything is tight.
Because this isn’t quiet sabotage anymore.
This is open fracture.
And for the first time since I saw the number stitched across her chest—
I feel like the ground might finally move.
Jake looks at me again.
“When.”
“They cycle her to observation tomorrow night.”
He nods once.
“Then we move tomorrow night.”
The tide crashes harder against the reef.
I turn to leave, but he stops me with one final question.
“You sure about this.”
I don’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Because she can’t see the walls closing in.
But she hears my boots.
She's my Mate..