You slept under a bramble to keep out of the lights of the choppers. He's still asleep, but you're wide awake, listening to the marshalls' shouts and twig snaps getting louder, getting closer. You don't know these woods. Getting out would take some pathfinding. And you'd probably end up stumbling right into their hands.
He's in your arms. Four months ago he promised you that he would never let either one of you be taken to jail. He made the promise at your demand. You owe him the same duty. Kiss his forehead and slit his throat before he wakes up. Then cut into your own. This is how love plays out in a life of crime.
Happy Choppers Day!