Sarah woke to motion.
Not the gentle sway of water.
Not the creak of cabin wood.
Movement — rhythmic and mechanical.
Her head throbbed. Her wrists burned where tape had been replaced tighter than before.
The air smelled different.
Gasoline.
Hot rubber.
Dust.
She forced her eyes open slowly.
Dark interior.
Vehicle.
She was lying across the back seat of something — an SUV or truck. Windows tinted. Morning light flashing intermittently through trees as they passed.
Jack was driving.
Calmly.
One hand on the wheel.
The other resting casually near the center console.
"You're awake," he said without looking back.
She didn't respond immediately.
She cataloged.
Speed moderate.
Road uneven.
Turns frequent.
Rural.
"How long?" she asked finally.
"Not long."
"From the lake."
"Long enough."
Her heart pounded.
Molly.
The explosion.
"Is she alive?"
Jack's jaw tightened slightly.
"She made her choice."
That wasn't an answer.
"She's alive," Sarah pressed.
He didn't respond.
Instead, he reached forward and adjusted the rearview mirror slightly — watching her through it.
"You see how they escalated?" he said calmly. "They forced the fire."
"You started it."
"They forced my hand."
The road shifted from gravel to asphalt.
He accelerated.
Sarah closed her eyes briefly, thinking.
He had pre-planned multiple locations.
The map.
The case.
He hadn't fled blindly.
He was relocating.
Which meant—
This wasn't desperation.
It was phase progression.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Away."
"From what?"
"Noise."
Back in Branson, the command room felt different.
Not tense.
Mobilized.
The map recovered from the crawlspace was pinned across a digital board now, scanned and magnified.
Red circles marked six separate rural properties within a hundred-mile radius.
Three in Missouri.
Two in northern Arkansas.
One near the Oklahoma line.
"He didn't mark random places," Brian said, eyes scanning.
"All within two hours of Table Rock," tactical confirmed.
"Properties owned?" the Chief asked.
"Mostly shell LLCs. Recently purchased land."
Brian's jaw tightened.
"He's been building this."
"Yes."
"And we never saw it."
A federal liaison stood near the back of the room now.
"This crosses state lines if he hits Arkansas," the liaison said. "We're prepared to step in."
Brian didn't take his eyes off the map.
"Not yet."
The room went quiet.
"We move on these simultaneously," he continued. "If we tip him early, he relocates again."
"You think he's monitoring?" the Chief asked.
"Yes."
"How?"
"He thinks ahead."
Brian pointed to the northern Arkansas property.
"Elevation heavy. Tree coverage dense. Secondary access road."
"Why that one?" tactical asked.
"Isolation without complete abandonment. He still wants control."
Inside the vehicle, Sarah subtly tested her restraints again.
Zip ties now.
Stronger.
Her hands were bound in front this time, but secured to a belt loop anchor point between seats.
Calculated.
He wanted her mobile enough to walk.
Not enough to flee.
"You're not going to keep running forever," she said.
"I'm not running."
"What are you doing?"
"Adjusting."
He took a sharp turn off the main highway.
Gravel returned.
Dust rose behind them.
He reached down and pulled a burner phone from the console.
Checked it.
No signal.
He tossed it aside.
"Too much activity near the lake now," he muttered.
Sarah caught that.
Activity.
He knew.
He expected response scale.
Back at the hospital, Molly refused sedation.
"I need to see the map," she insisted hoarsely.
"You need rest," the nurse said firmly.
"I saw part of it."
Brian entered the room before the nurse could argue further.
"You shouldn't be sitting up," he said.
"I'm fine."
She wasn't.
Her voice trembled from smoke damage.
But her eyes were sharp.
"He marked them in a pattern," she said.
"What kind of pattern?"
"Distance staging."
Brian froze.
"Explain."
"He said something once… before the storm… about 'never staying in one place longer than necessary.'"
Brian leaned closer.
"Go on."
"He moves in layers. First safe. Then safer."
He felt something click into place.
The closest property might not be the destination.
It might be temporary.
A decoy hold.
He looked back toward the map in his mind.
Six locations.
But what if the first one wasn't the real one?
He stood.
"Get me the Arkansas property file."
At a secluded rural turnout thirty miles from the lake, Jack finally slowed.
He turned down an unmarked dirt path concealed by overgrowth.
The vehicle bounced slightly as it descended into a shallow wooded ravine.
Hidden from road.
Hidden from casual view.
He parked.
Engine off.
Silence flooded the space.
He stepped out first.
Listened.
Wind through trees.
Distant bird call.
Nothing else.
He opened the rear door and pulled Sarah upright.
"Walk," he said.
Her legs were stiff but functional.
They moved through brush along a barely visible footpath.
Two minutes later—
A small structure appeared through trees.
Not a cabin.
Not like the first.
This one was metal-sided.
Industrial.
Converted storage building.
Reinforced door.
Padlock already unlocked.
He pushed it open.
Inside—
Cots.
Water.
Supplies.
Battery lanterns.
Another drone case.
He had not fled.
He had upgraded.
Sarah stepped inside slowly.
The door shut behind her.
Jack locked it.
And smiled faintly.
"Welcome to phase two."
Back in Branson, Brian's phone buzzed.
"Arkansas State Police reporting unusual vehicle sighting near rural tract twenty miles south of county line."
Brian didn't hesitate.
"Coordinates?"
He grabbed the map.
Matched distance.
Matched direction.
His pulse accelerated.
"He's not running blind," he said quietly.
"He's stepping."
The Chief looked at him.
"Then we step faster."
Brian nodded.
But deep down—
He knew something else.
Jack wasn't just ahead.
He was evolving.
And Sarah was inside that evolution.
Alive.
For now.