Chapter 3: The Choice You Can’t Take Back
1337 Words
Mia didn’t answer him.
Not immediately.
She just stared at Jacob, her heart still pounding from everything that had just happened—the unicorn, the impossible calm under her hands, the way he looked at her like she was something *wrong* with the world.
Or something that didn’t belong in it.
---
“Trust you?” she finally said, her voice low. “You haven’t told me anything.”
Jacob didn’t react to the edge in her tone.
“You’re still alive,” he said simply. “That should count for something.”
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Mia let out a short, breathless laugh.
“Barely.”
---
Behind her, the unicorn shifted again, a weak movement, but enough to pull her attention instantly back to it.
Her expression softened.
“Hey… easy…” she murmured, placing her hand back against its neck.
The reaction was immediate.
The tension in its body eased.
Its breathing steadied.
---
Jacob saw it again.
And this time—
He didn’t try to hide the concern in his eyes.
---
“We don’t have long,” he said.
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Mia didn’t look at him.
“Then start talking while I work.”
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Silence.
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Then—
“You need to get it out of here.”
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That made her pause.
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Mia slowly lifted her head, turning to look at him properly.
“You’re serious?”
---
“If it stays here, it dies.”
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Her jaw tightened.
“And if I try to move it? It could die anyway.”
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Jacob took a step closer.
“Not if you do it.”
---
Something about the way he said it—
Like it wasn’t even a question—
Made something uneasy twist in her chest.
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“You’re putting a lot of faith in me,” she said.
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“I’m not,” he replied.
“I’m trusting what it already chose.”
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Mia glanced back at the unicorn.
It was watching her again.
That same strange awareness in its eyes.
---
Like it was waiting.
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Her pulse quickened.
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“This is insane…” she whispered.
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“Yes,” Jacob agreed.
---
Another beat of silence.
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Then Mia pushed herself to her feet.
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“Fine.”
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Jacob’s head snapped slightly toward her.
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“We move it,” she said, already turning toward her truck. “But if this goes wrong—”
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“It won’t.”
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She shot him a look.
“You don’t know that.”
---
He held her gaze.
“I know enough.”
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That didn’t make her feel better.
---
Mia climbed back up into the haul truck, mind racing.
This was insane.
Completely insane.
She should be calling this in. Reporting it. Letting someone else deal with it.
---
But the image of strangers—*whoever they were*—finding this creature instead…
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Her stomach turned.
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“No,” she muttered to herself, grabbing a length of rope and a heavy-duty tarp from the back compartment.
“Not happening.”
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When she climbed back down, Jacob was crouched near the unicorn again—but not touching it.
Watching.
Always watching.
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“We need to lift it,” Mia said, dropping the tarp beside them.
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Jacob frowned slightly.
“It’s too weak.”
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“I know,” she said. “So we don’t make it walk.”
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She moved quickly, spreading the tarp out beside the unicorn.
“Help me roll it gently onto this.”
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He hesitated.
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“It won’t let you,” he said.
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Mia met his eyes.
“Then I’ll do it.”
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Another pause.
---
Then—
Jacob shifted position.
Not touching the unicorn.
But ready.
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“Tell me what to do,” he said.
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Mia blinked.
Just for a second.
---
Then nodded.
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“Slowly,” she instructed, placing her hands carefully along the unicorn’s side. “We move together. No sudden movements.”
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Jacob mirrored her positioning—but kept just enough distance not to provoke it.
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“On three,” Mia said softly.
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The unicorn tensed slightly beneath her hands.
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“It’s okay…” she whispered. “I’ve got you…”
---
Its body eased again.
---
Mia took a breath.
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“One…”
“Two…”
“Three.”
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They moved.
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It was heavy.
Far heavier than any horse she had ever handled.
But somehow—
It didn’t fight her.
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Not even when they shifted its weight.
Not even when the pain must have flared.
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It stayed calm.
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For her.
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Jacob noticed.
Every second of it.
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By the time they had it fully onto the tarp, Mia was breathing hard.
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“Okay…” she exhaled. “Okay… good…”
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She wiped her hands against her pants, then grabbed the rope.
---
“We drag it,” she said.
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Jacob looked at the haul truck.
“That won’t be subtle.”
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Mia snorted.
“Neither is a glowing unicorn in the middle of a mine.”
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A flicker of something—almost amusement—touched his expression.
Gone just as quickly.
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“Fair point.”
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Together, they pulled.
---
Slowly.
Carefully.
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Every movement deliberate.
Every second stretching.
---
Until—
Finally—
They reached the truck.
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Mia climbed up first, securing the rope to the side hook.
“Okay,” she called down. “We lift as much as we can, then I’ll pull the rest up.”
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Jacob didn’t argue this time.
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They worked in sync.
Strange, unspoken rhythm.
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And somehow—
They got it in.
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Mia dropped back down beside it, immediately checking the bandages.
Still holding.
Still breathing.
---
She let out a shaky breath.
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“We did it…”
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Jacob was watching her again.
But this time—
There was something different in his expression.
---
Not just curiosity.
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Respect.
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“Not many people could have done that,” he said quietly.
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Mia shook her head.
“I don’t think I’m supposed to be ‘many people’ tonight.”
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Silence.
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Then—
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“Where are you taking it?” he asked.
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Mia didn’t hesitate.
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“Home.”
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Jacob stiffened.
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“That’s not safe.”
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“Neither is leaving it here.”
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“You don’t understand what bringing it there means.”
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Mia turned to face him fully now.
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“Then explain it,” she said, frustration rising again.
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He opened his mouth—
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Then stopped.
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Like whatever he was about to say…
He wasn’t ready to say yet.
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Mia’s eyes narrowed.
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“Yeah,” she said quietly. “That’s what I thought.”
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She climbed into the driver’s seat.
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“If you’re coming, get in.”
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Jacob didn’t move.
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For a second—
Two—
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Then he walked around the truck and climbed in.
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The engine roared to life beneath them.
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As Mia pulled away from Sector C, dust rising behind them, she glanced once in the mirror.
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At the tarp.
At the shape beneath it.
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At the life she had just changed forever.
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Her grip tightened on the wheel.
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“Start talking,” she said.
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Jacob looked out into the darkness ahead.
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And finally—
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“You were never supposed to find it,” he said.
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Mia’s stomach dropped.
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“What does that mean?”
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He turned his head slightly.
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His voice lower now.
Heavier.
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“It means,” he said,
“…you’ve just stepped into a world that was never meant to know you existed.”
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Mia swallowed.
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Then whispered—
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> “Too late for that now.”
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