I blink hard, embarrassed and emotional all at once. “I didn’t want this. I mean—I did, but I didn’tplanit.”
Harper laughs. “Nobody plans love, Fiona. It’s like getting hit by a truck, but the truck has abs and smiles like you’re his whole world.”
I laugh too—wet and shaky—but it helps. It helps to say it out loud. It helps to let someone else hold it with me.
Kayley’s voice is quiet. “Then be wherever he is. That’s what I learned.” She looks out toward the trees where the SUVs vanished. “It’s scary, loving someone who runs toward danger. But it’s also… worth it. Because they love hard. They protect hard. And when they choose you, they don’t half-do it.”
I breathe in slowly. I think about Chase’s eyes on me in that kitchen. His voice against my forehead.
I’m all in.
I think about my brother being here—proof that maybe “home” isn’t one place. Maybe it’s the people who make you feel safe. Seen. Wanted.
I look at Harper, at Kayley, at Emma, and at the babies on the blanket like tiny anchors to a new life.
And I realize something that makes my heart ache in the best way. I don’t just want to survive this. I want the happiness. I want the love. I want the messy breakfasts and the warm nights and the found family and the mountains that hold secrets and safety in equal measure.
I want Chase. And I want to be brave enough to claim that. Even if the waiting is the worst part. Especially because it is.
TWENTY
CHASE
We roll out like a storm.
Three SUVs. Lights off. Radios low. Snow-dusted pine and black sky swallowing us as we cut down the mountain road toward Timber Creek.
Silas drives point with two sheriff’s units tucked in behind us—deputies he trusts. Not the ones who ask too many questions. Not the ones who’d sell a badge for cash.
The rest of us fill the convoy like we were built for this.
Rafe in the passenger seat of Gavin’s SUV, calm and lethal. Boyd in the back, silent, checking his weapon like it’s a prayer. Thorne riding shotgun with Harlan, eyes on the tree line like it’s talking. Wyatt on comms, laptop balanced on his knees, tracking coordinates with a glow on his face that makes him look like a damn ghost. Rhett cracking his knuckles like he’s warming up for a brawl. Eli double-checking his med bag for the third time because he’s the only one in this convoy whose job is to put people back together after we tear a place apart. Harlan quietly looking out the window. He’s lethal and ready.
And me?
I’m thinking about Fiona. About her hair in my fingers this morning. About the way she looked at me when I told her I’d go anywhere she wanted. About the fact that if Marcus lays a hand on her again, I’m going to end him.
Wyatt’s voice crackles in my earpiece. “We’ve got movement. One heat signature on the upper level, three on the lower. Most likely guards. The women are in the back—north side—based on the thermal cluster.”
“Copy,” Gavin murmurs. His voice is iron. Commander voice. “Silas, you got eyes?”
Silas responds, “Visual in thirty. Deputies stack on my mark. We do this clean.”
Clean.
I’ve learned that word doesn’t mean quiet. It means controlled. No mistakes.
We turn off the main road onto a dirt track that cuts behind an old, half-collapsed storage yard—rusted fencing, shipping containers, abandoned equipment. A place no one would question at night because no one comes out here unless they have a reason.
We stop just shy of the final bend and kill engines. Silence slams down. The cold air bites my lungs as I step out. I pull my beanie lower, adjust my vest, check my weapon.
Gavin moves down the line, giving quick hand signals. We all fall into position. Silas and his deputies take the left flank. Thorne and Boyd take the high ground—two dark shadows melting intotrees. Harlan and Rhett go right with Rafe. Eli stays a step back, ready to move the second we pull anyone out.
Wyatt’s voice is calm in my ear. “Two cameras. One at the front corner, one above the side door. I can loop for ninety seconds. After that, it’s a guess.”
“Do it,” Gavin says.
A soft click in my earpiece.