Hunter
Chapter Eighteen
Hunter
M oonlight turned the old ski patrol cabin’s weathered boards to silver, the structure a dark sentinel against the stars. Pine branches stirred overhead, winter’s bite carrying the promise of snow. Beside me, Amelia’s hand stayed steady in mine as we approached. FBI teams ghosted through the trees—close enough to protect, far enough to maintain our cover.
“Hunter.” Amelia’s whisper caught like frost in the air. “If anything happens—“
“Don’t.” I drew her close, breathing in the vanilla warmth of her hair against the mountain cold. The wool of her coat was soft under my fingers, her presence anchoring me against memories threatening to overflow. “We’re both walking away from this.”
Red bloomed across my vision—my mother stumbling from a bullet’s impact, her eyes finding mine across fifteen years of absence. Michael collapsing in Amelia’s arms, his blood stark against resort gravel. So many wounds, so many secrets leading to this moment under winter stars.
“Your mom?” Amelia’s voice softened, reading my tension the way she’d always been able to, even before we’d admitted what we meant to each other.
“Agent Blake says she’s stable. Through-and-through, like Michael.” My thumb traced her cheekbone, feeling the slight tremor she tried to hide. “They’re both fighters. Like you.”
“Like us,” she corrected, and despite everything, warmth bloomed in my chest at that simple word. Some things remained constant, even when the world tilted beneath our feet.
A twig snapped sharp as a gunshot. We tensed, but moonlight caught only a deer’s startled eyes before it bounded away, disturbed by FBI movements through frosted underbrush.
“Twenty minutes until midnight.” My phone’s glow cast blue shadows across our faces. Somewhere in the darkness, Agent Blake’s bomb squad worked against time, but with so much ground to cover, we couldn’t be certain they’d found every explosive.
Amelia squared her shoulders, mirroring her mother’s stance from old photographs so perfectly it stole my breath. “Then let’s finish this.”
The cabin door’s creak echoed off walls that had witnessed decades of mountain rescues. Our flashlights caught dust motes dancing like snow, illuminating rescue gear still hanging from wooden pegs. Every happy memory of training here—Dad’s steady guidance, Mom’s proud smile—felt tainted now, like photographs slowly burning at the edges.
“There.” Amelia’s light caught something beside the old first aid cabinet: two sets of initials carved deep into the pine. MH + KM.
“Our mothers.” The wood felt smooth under my fingers, worn by years of hands tracing these same letters.
“Best friends,” a voice cut through shadows, making us both start. “Until your mother’s conscience got my brother killed.”
Rachel Wheeler stepped into our light, grief aging her features beyond the hour that had passed. Moonlight through dusty windows caught silver in her hair, lines etched around her mouth like winter-carved valleys.
“That’s not what happened.” My mother materialized from the back room, more solid than the ghost she’d been in my memories. Her bandaged arm didn’t dim the fierce light in her eyes. Agent Blake flanked her, weapon ready.
“Kate.” Rachel’s smile cut like a mountain wind. “Still protecting Margaret’s secrets?”
“Still twisting the truth?” The sound of Mom’s voice after fifteen years hit me like a wave, a sharp longing spreading through me. “Tell them, Rachel. Tell them what really happened that night.”
“I know what happened.” Arthur Horton emerged with Agent Blake’s partner, supporting him. His hospital sweater hung loose, making him look smaller than the father figure in my memories. “Because I was there. When Thomas Spencer died. When Katherine disappeared. When Margaret...”
His voice broke on Amelia’s mother’s name, raw with years of carrying guilt.
“Dad?” Amelia’s fingers tightened around mine.
“I’m so sorry, princess.” Moonlight caught tears in Arthur’s eyes. “We thought we were protecting you. All of you. But secrets...” He swallowed hard, the sound echoing. “They poison everything they touch.”
“Then let’s end them.” I pulled Amelia closer as the cabin creaked beneath us, old wood and memories surrounding us like ghosts. “Right here. Right now.”
Rachel’s hand moved toward her jacket. Agent Blake’s weapon settled with a soft click.
“Careful, Mrs. Wheeler.” Years of authority steadied her warning. “No more violence.”
“Violence?” Rachel’s hollow laugh bounced off the cabin walls. “I’m here to show them this.”
The manila envelope she withdrew looked aged as the hands that held it, crackling in the night air like dead leaves.
“Here’s what your mothers found.” Grief thickened her voice. “What got my brother killed. What’s really buried under the old ski slopes.”
Photos spilled across dusty floorboards. Construction plans. Property deeds. And others—chemical analysis reports, their official stamps faded but legible in our beams.
“Uranium.” The word fell from Mom’s lips, heavy with knowledge and regret. “Crystal Ridge knew about the deposits when they started buying properties. They’ve been planning this for decades.”
“A mining operation?” Amelia’s grip tightened her mother’s bracelet cold between our palms. “All of this... for mining rights?”
“Worth billions,” Arthur confirmed, moonlight harsh on grief-carved features. “Your mother discovered their plans. Started gathering evidence. Asked Kate for help...”
“And my brother agreed to testify.” Rachel’s words cut like broken glass. “Until they silenced him.”
“Who?” The demand scraped from my throat. “Who killed him?”
A new figure filled the doorway, familiar and devastating. Hospital antiseptic carried on the night wind as he stepped into our light.
“I did.”
Michael stood there, shoulder bandaged against the dark jacket, face pale as moonlight.
And in his hand, a detonator pulsed red like a dying heart.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, breath visible in mountain cold. “But some secrets have to stay buried.”
The cabin’s timbers groaned like souls in pain as midnight crept closer.
And somewhere in the darkness, a timer counted down, each second falling like snow.
“Michael, you were just a kid.” Amelia’s voice carried echoes of shared childhood secrets. “You couldn’t have—“
“I was old enough.” The detonator trembled in his grip, casting shadow demons across his haunted features. “Old enough to follow Mom that night. Old enough to see Thomas Spencer meet Crystal Ridge’s men. Old enough to panic when he pulled a gun...”
Mom stepped forward. Michael flinched like a wounded animal. “Thomas was trying to protect us.”
“He was blackmailing them.” Truth spilled from Michael like blood from a wound, years of guilt making him look young and lost. “Thomas demanded more money, threatening to expose everything if they didn’t pay.”
His breath misted in cold air. “When they refused, he pulled a gun. Aimed it at Morrison’s chest.” Trembling hands demonstrated, the detonator wavering dangerously. “I was behind Thomas. I couldn’t watch him shoot. I grabbed his arm, trying to force the gun away.”
The cabin held its breath, dust dancing in our beams. “We struggled, both gripping the weapon. In the scuffle, it twisted toward Thomas. His finger was still on the trigger when—“ His swallow echoed in waiting silence. “When it went off. Thomas... Thomas shot himself.”
“And everyone assumed Crystal Ridge killed him.” Grief cracked Rachel’s perfect mask. “My brother...”
“Put down the detonator, Michael.” Agent Blake’s gentleness didn’t soften her aim. “It’s over.”
“Is it?” Desperation aged him backward to fifteen as he looked at Arthur. “Tell them, Dad. Tell them what we found in the mine surveys.”
Arthur seemed to collapse inward, moonlight harsh on his features. “The uranium deposits... they’re not just valuable. They’re dangerous. Exposed. Leaching into groundwater.”
“The cancer clusters in the valley.” Amelia’s fingers tightened in mine. “The mysterious illnesses...”
“Crystal Ridge wasn’t just buying properties.” Understanding hit like an avalanche starting. “They were covering up an environmental disaster.”
“And Mom died trying to expose it.” Steel entered Amelia’s voice. “That’s why you cut power tonight, isn’t it, Michael? To destroy evidence before the FBI found it.”
“To protect you!” The detonator shook in his grip. “If this gets out, everyone involved goes down. Including Dad. Including me.”
“Then let them.” Arthur straightened despite weakness, showing me where Amelia got her strength. “No more secrets. No more protecting the guilty by hurting the innocent.”
“Listen to him, Michael.” Mom’s voice carried years of regret. “Margaret wouldn’t want—“
“Don’t!” The detonator trembled, red light painting cabin walls like blood. “Don’t tell me what Mom would want. She’s dead because of me. Because I was too cowardly to admit what I’d done.”
“You were scared.” Amelia stepped toward her brother, moonlight catching tears on her cheeks. “Just a kid trying to protect everyone.”
“Stay back.” But his voice wavered like dying flame.
My heart swelled watching Amelia advance, even as fear churned my stomach. The cabin creaked beneath her careful steps.
“Remember when I fell off my bike?” Her voice fell soft as snow. “You carried me home. Told me everything would be okay.”
“Amelia—“
“Let me do that for you now.” Another step, dust swirling in her wake. “Let me help carry this.”
Wind picked up outside, making timbers groan. Agent Blake’s team shifted in shadows, ready, but I held up a hand. This moment belonged to Amelia.
“Seven minutes to midnight.” Rachel’s whisper hung in the frigid air.
Michael’s eyes darted between the detonator and his sister, tears catching the moonlight. “I can’t let them take Dad. Can’t let them destroy everything Mom died protecting.”
“Mom died protecting us.” Amelia could almost touch him now, her voice steady as a mountain stone. “Not secrets. Not property. Us.”
Something in Michael crumbled like spring snow. The detonator slipped—I lunged forward as Agent Blake shouted—
But Amelia was faster.
She caught her brother as he collapsed; the detonator falling harmless as she cradled him like she had in the driveway. Hospital antiseptic still clung to his clothes.
“I’m sorry,” he sobbed against her shoulder. “I’m so sorry...”
FBI moved in smoothly, securing the scene as Rachel surrendered, the fight finally leaving her elegant frame.
I reached Amelia as her strength gave out. She fell back against my chest, still holding Michael while Agent Blake’s team disabled the remaining explosives. Vanilla shampoo mixed with mountain air and tears.
“I’ve got you,” I whispered, arms encircling them both. “I’ve got you.”
Movement caught my eye—Mom helping Arthur toward us, their steps uncertain on worn floorboards.
Two families, torn apart by secrets, finally face the truth under mountain stars.
But before anyone could speak, a phone chimed sharp against cabin silence.
Blue light painted our faces as one message appeared on every screen:
Sweet family reunion. But did you think I’d trust amateurs with something this important? The real explosives aren’t in the cabin. They’re under the resort.
-Jack Morrison
Through cabin windows, Pine Haven’s lights flickered like dying fireflies.
Five minutes until midnight.
“Jack Morrison.” Mom’s good hand gripped Arthur’s arm. “Of course. He was there that night—watching, always watching.”
“He killed Thomas,” Rachel breathed, fury replacing grief. “Used my brother’s death to manipulate everyone.”
But I barely heard them. My world narrowed to Amelia’s face as she reread the message, her features settling into the determination that had first made me fall in love.
“Hunter.” Her voice trembled slightly. “The festival guests—“
“Are being evacuated.” Agent Blake moved toward the door. “We found his digital signature in the power hack. Buildings are being cleared, but we need his location.”
“And now we have it.” I steadied Amelia against me. “He’s in the resort.”
“Mom’s office.” Recognition lit her eyes. “Where she kept everything important. Where she worked late into the night...”
“Perfect vantage point,” Michael added softly from Taylor’s care. “You can see everything from there, including this cabin.”
Mom’s touch on my arm carried warmth despite the night’s chill. “Go. End this. For both our families.”
“For everyone they’ve hurt,” Arthur added, tired eyes moving between us.
Amelia squared her shoulders, moonlight catching gold in her hair. Pride and love swelled in my chest, even now.
“Together?” I asked.
“Together.”
We moved fast through the darkness, Agent Blake’s team spreading around us like shadows. Pine needles crunched beneath our feet, marking precious seconds. Pine Haven loomed ahead, moonlit windows glowing like warning beacons.
“Wait.” Amelia caught my arm in the security light pool. “If anything happens—“
I drew her into a kiss, pouring everything I couldn’t say into it. Mountain air and promise mixed with the salt of her tears. When we parted, her eyes shimmered in the dim light.
“I love you.” The words carried everything we’d fought for, everything we still might lose. “Everything else is just details.”
Her smile, even now, could light the darkest night. “I love you too.”
Movement caught above—Morrison watching from the office window, a spider in his web. Moonlight turned the glass into a mirror, hiding his expression but not his satisfaction.
“Ready?” I felt her slight tremor against me.
Amelia’s hand found mine, warm despite the mountain cold. “Let’s end this.”
We entered Pine Haven as midnight struck, but before we reached the stairs, our phones lit up. The message cast blue shadows across the familiar lobby:
Did you really think your mother kept all her secrets in plain sight, princess?
Check behind the painting in her office. The one of Pine Haven’s opening day. You know - where she’s standing with Richard Miller, looking so... close.
Some partnerships run deeper than business. Some betrayals cut straight to the heart.
Two minutes to decide: Your mother’s real legacy, or saving Pine Haven.
Choose wisely.
Morrison’s silhouette shifted against the office windows. He pressed two detonators against the glass—one black, one red, both carrying fifteen years of secrets and the power to destroy everything we loved.
The powerless grandfather clock cast long shadows across marble floors as Morrison waited above the keeper of secrets that could shatter our families.
Time, like the truth, was running out.