SILAS:ALERT. THREE WOMEN KIDNAPPED IN TIMBER CREEK. POSSIBLE MARCUS CONNECTION. MEET NOW.
Everything in me goes cold.
Fiona sees my face change and stiffens. “What is it?”
I swallow hard. “Silas. Three women were taken.”
Her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah,” I say, jaw tight. “Yeah.”
The moment we were having—our almost-future, our almost-confession—doesn’t disappear. It just… gets shoved into a drawer we’ll have to open later, if we survive today.
I force my voice steady. “Eat. We need fuel.”
She shakes her head, eyes wide. “Chase?—”
“Fiona.” I step closer, palms bracketing her face for a brief second, grounding her. “Look at me.”
She does.
“You are safe,” I tell her. “Right now, you are safe. The compound is locked down. Harper and Kayley will stay with the babies. Gavin will have someone with you at all times.”
Her voice trembles. “You’re going out there.”
“Yes.”
“And it’s because of me,” she whispers, guilt already crawling up her spine.
“No,” I say firmly. “This is because of them. Because men like Marcus and Renshaw think they can take what they want and disappear into the dark.”
My thumb brushes her cheek. “You are not the reason bad men exist.”
She nods, blinking hard. “Okay.”
We eat fast—too fast. The food tastes like urgency. Like adrenaline. I swallow coffee like it’s armor. When we’re done, I stand and start moving with purpose—grabbing my jacket, checking my sidearm, mentally ticking through what we’ll need.
Fiona watches me, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold her body together. “I hate this,” she says quietly.
I step in close, press my forehead to hers for one brief second. “Me too.” Then I pull back and force my voice into a lighter register, because she needs something to hold onto. “But you know what I’m really good at?”
She sniffs. “Being annoying?”
“That too,” I say. “But I’m really good at bringing people home.”
Her eyes shine again. “Chase…”
“I meant what I said,” I add, low. “We’ll talk about it. After.”
She nods, like she’s storing the words somewhere safe.
I guide her toward the door. “Come on. Meeting room.”
We step outside into the bright morning air. Haven 7 is already shifting. Radios crackle. Boots thud. Men move with purpose across the yard like a machine locking into place.
As we walk toward the meeting house, I see Gavin striding across the compound, face carved from stone. Rafe is with him. Thorne is already checking the perimeter. Boyd’s grabbing gear. Eli’s heading toward the med station.
Silas is at the door, phone in hand, eyes hard. “We’re on,” he says as we approach. “Three women. One from the diner. Two from the gas station.”