Priority Target
1365 Words
POV: Jane
The evening skylight spreads over the peaceful town of Wellsboro, but inside the cabin, the walls feel like they’re actively shrinking. The air is thick, the scent of damp pine and sharp gun oil heavy in my lungs. But it isn't the cabin that’s suffocating me; it’s Ryan. He stands across from me, a silent, immovable pillar, his pale eyes tracking me with a precision that feels like he’s reading my pulse.
And earlier, in the backroom of the bar, he just dropped details about Philadelphia. My city. My past. The life I buried a thousand miles away.
Nobody here should know a thing about that.
I surge to my feet, the chair legs screeching violently against the floorboards. "Enough."
The word cuts through the room like a gunshot. I jab a finger at Ryan’s chest, my hand shaking so hard my knuckles ache. "How do you know about Philadelphia?"
Ryan doesn't flinch. He just watches me, shadows carving hard, cruel lines across his face. "Jane…"
"No." My voice spikes, sharp and raw. "No more vague answers. No more cryptic looks. I’m done being the only one in this room without a script. How do you know about my past?"
Silence follows; the heavy, suffocating kind that turns your own heartbeat into a drumline in your ears.
Dwight’s grip flexes at his side. "Give her an answer, Ghost. Before I rip it out of you."
Ryan studies me, weighing something behind those icy eyes. I plant my feet, my fists clenched so tight my nails bite into my palms.
Finally, he exhales, a low and rough sound. "You really want to know?"
"Yes."
"You’re not going to like it."
I let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "I haven’t liked anything for months. Try me."
His jaw ticks. Slowly, he reaches into his leather jacket.
Dwight shifts instantly, his muscles coiling, his hand dropping toward his waistband. The air in the room spikes with lethal electricity.
But Ryan doesn't pull a weapon. Instead, he slides out a sleek black tablet and tosses it onto the coffee table. The screen flickers to life, casting a cold, clinical blue glow over the scarred wood.
"Look."
I step forward, my movements hesitant. For a second, my own reflection stares back at me from the dark glass. Then, the screen refreshes.
My stomach drops into a bottomless abyss.
It’s me. My photo. Recent. I’m wearing the oversized flannel I bought at Thompson's Hardware just last week, my hair pulled back in a messy, distracted knot. Someone took this through a long lens. Someone is watching me buy groceries. Watching me breathe. I thought I was invisible in this town. I was wrong.
Ice floods my veins. "What is this?"
Ryan’s voice is flat, devoid of emotion. "A digital hit list. I intercepted it from an encrypted server last night."
The world tilts on its axis. I grab the edge of the table just to stay upright. Dwight moves in behind me, his hand wrapping firmly around my waist to steady me.
I force myself to look back at the screen. My fingers tremble as I swipe through columns of data; faces, last known locations, and threat levels color-coded in a deep, bleeding red. Then I hit the bottom of the file.
TARGET: JANE WALLEN
STATUS: PRIORITY TARGET
ORDERS: ELIMINATE IMMEDIATELY
My fingers shake so hard I drop the tablet. It clatters against the wood.
"No." I try to back away, but Dwight’s arm is a steel band around me, halting my retreat. "No, this is wrong. This has to be a mistake."
"It’s real," Ryan says.
"No!" My voice cracks. "Someone’s been hunting me? Watching me?"
Dwight slams his palm onto the counter, the sound echoing through the cabin like thunder. His eyes blaze a feral, dangerous amber. "Who made the list, Ghost?"
Ryan’s shoulders lock. "I don’t know yet."
"Then find out." Dwight’s boots thud as he steps closer, cutting off Ryan’s line of sight to me. "Try harder."
The threat is unmistakable. Dwight looks ready to rip the world apart: not at me, but for me. The realization burns through my chest, a dangerous warmth I have no business feeling. He’s terrified for me. Dwight Kelly; the tattooed monster who pinned me against a couch and kissed me until the world faded away; is actually scared. It’s unbelievable, and it makes my heart race for all the wrong reasons.
Dan lets out a loud, dramatic groan from the corner. "Oh my God."
I snap my head toward him, my cheeks flushing hot.
He smirks, casually tossing a screw into the air and catching it. "The s****l tension in this room could power a small town. Seriously, I’m getting a contact high over here. We’ve got one growly biker ready to commit murder, one silent sniper brooding in the shadows, and one terrified forensic accountant caught in the middle. This is basically a romance opera"
"Shut up, Blaze," Dwight growls, snatching a heavy wrench and hurling it at his head.
Dan catches it one-handed, his grin never wavering. "I'm just saying!"
I grab a throw pillow and wing it at his face. It smacks him square on the nose.
He laughs, tossing it aside. "See? Passion. Chemistry."
"I hate all of you," I mutter, burying my face in my hands.
"No you don't, sweetheart," Dan chirps. "We're growing on you. Admit it."
Ryan lets out a faint huff… almost a laugh, almost amused. For a second, the ghost of a smile touches his lips... but then his eyes drop back to the tablet. The humor dies instantly.
"There’s something else in the metadata," he says, tapping the screen.
The atmosphere in the room shifts again, the heavy silence rushing back in. Dan leans over, scanning the lines of scrolling code. His face goes pale.
"That’s impossible," Dan whispers.
Dwight’s grip tightens on my waist. "Speak English, Blaze."
Dan points a grease-stained finger at the screen. "This encryption is military-grade. It costs millions just to maintain this kind of infrastructure. Only a few entities on the planet have access to this specific protocol."
My stomach twists into a violent knot. Corporate money. Corporate power. Philadelphia. My forensic brain begins to fire, connecting the dots I’ve spent months running from. The shell companies. The offshore accounts. The biometric keys.
The silence in the room becomes suffocating.
Ryan breaks it. "Jane."
I look up, my eyes wide.
"If they’re sending recovery teams after you," his voice drops, dark and grim, "then whatever data you’re carrying is worth killing an army for."
My throat tightens. Deep down, I know he’s right. I stole from the devil, and now the devil wants his ledger back.
Dan suddenly stands up, stretching his arms over his head. "Let’s go dance in the rain, Jane. Clear your head before you pass out." He grabs his jacket and heads for the door.
I shake my head, sinking into the worn leather of the couch. "I'm fine."
He vanishes into the storm, the door clicking shut behind him.
The cabin feels instantly colder without him. Outside, thunder cracks across the valley, rattling the windowpanes in their frames. Dwight pulls me tighter against his chest, resting his chin on the top of my head. Ryan remains by the window, a silent sentinel watching the dark.
***
For a fleeting, desperate second, I actually feel safe.
Then the front door bursts open.
Dwight’s hand flies to his pistol. Ryan flanks him in a heartbeat, his own weapon drawn and ready.
But it’s only Dan.
He is soaked to the bone, his skin deathly pale and his hands trembling. Rainwater pools at his boots, dripping onto the floor.
"Blaze? Talk," Dwight commands, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.
Dan wipes the rain from his eyes, his chest heaving as he fights for breath. He looks genuinely terrified.
"A helicopter just cleared the ridge," he pants, his voice shaking. "Military-spec. Corporate. No tail numbers."
His gaze locks onto mine, dark and horrified.
Dwight mutters a curse under his breath. Ryan begins to move slowly toward Dan.
My blood turns to ice. The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, painful gasp.
- Writer
