“Trafficking,” Silas says. “Moving people through smaller towns. Timber Creek is on the list.”
My stomach drops. “And Marcus?” I ask quietly.
Silas’s gaze meets mine. “He’s on the move.”
Chase’s hand finds mine without thinking.
“Headed this way,” Silas continues. “Or close enough that we should assume he is.”
The room goes silent. I squeeze Chase’s fingers, my pulse kicking up again—but this time, I’m not alone with it.
Gavin straightens. “Then we prepare.”
And for the first time since all of this started, I don’t feel like prey. I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a fortress. Withsomeone at my side who chose me. And that makes all the difference.
FOURTEEN
CHASE
Gavin doesn’t even try to be subtle about it.
The moment Silas finishes talking and the room starts breaking into motion—Rafe issuing orders, Thorne already heading for the doors, Boyd grabbing his coffee like he’s gearing up for a siege—Gavin’s hand clamps on my shoulder.
“Walk with me.”
It’s not a request.
Silas falls in on my other side, and suddenly I’m being herded out of the clubhouse like I’m the one who just got put on probation.
We stop in the small side office—the one with the map wall and the scarred wooden desk that’s seen more bad news than good. Gavin closes the door. Silas stays leaning against it, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Gavin turns to me. “This isn’t a command conversation,” he says. “This is a brother conversation.”
That’s somehow worse.
I brace myself. “Okay.”
He studies me for a second, then goes straight for the jugular. “What are your intentions with my sister?”
There it is. No buildup. No soft landing. Just a clean hit to the ribs.
I don’t dodge it. “I care about her.”
Silas’s brow lifts slightly. Gavin doesn’t move.
“That’s not what I asked,” Gavin says.
I run a hand over the back of my neck. “I don’t have a five-year plan, if that’s what you’re looking for. I’m not… playing with her. I’m not using her. I’m not screwing around.”
“Good,” Gavin says flatly. “Because when this is over, Fiona goes home.” The words land heavy. “She has a job,” he continues. “A life. Responsibilities that don’t exist on this mountain.”
I know.
I’ve known since the second she walked into Haven 7 with a suitcase and stubborn pride and eyes that looked like she’d already lost too much.
“I’m aware,” I say.
“And you?” Silas asks quietly. “What do you have?”