Chapter 27
Finn
We moved slow, staying low, every step calculated. The trees thinned as we neared the outer limits of the compound. The muted canvas tents were barely visible through the dense mist.
I led Saoirse to a patch of thick brush a good twenty meters from the nearest fire pit. Close enough she could see me signal if needed. Far enough to stay hidden if things went sideways.
I hated leaving her here. Hated it with a ferocity that clawed under my ribs. But bringing her any closer wasn’t an option. She wasn’t trained for this kind of infiltration, and Ajax needed to be close enough to catch trouble before it found us both.
I crouched low, touching Saoirse’s hand briefly—steady pressure, a silent promise. She nodded, small and fierce. Her trust gutted me. I’d do everything in my power to earn it.
I turned to Ajax, keeping my voice low, barely a breath. “Stay sharp, lad. Eyes and ears.”
He shifted forward, settling halfway between us. Close enough to warn either way. A living tripwire.
I’d stripped down to the bare essentials earlier, back at our camp. Now it was only me, a blade tucked into my boot, another at my hip, and a stolen sliver of hope.
I touched two fingers to the ground between us— hold position —then melted into the dark.
Every instinct in me howled at leaving Saoirse unprotected. Of trusting a world I knew better than to trust. But this was the only way. Get the radio. Get the message out. Bring the cavalry. Then, and only then, get us all home safe.
I left Ajax where I’d planted him, still and silent, half-melted into the shadows. Every step I took toward the nearest tent scraped against instinct. My boots barely kissed the ground. My breath was shallow, my pulse steady.
The camp felt different at night. Quieter, but not dead. Like something coiled and sleeping beneath the surface.
I moved fast, hugging the tree line, slipping through the patches of deeper shadow between tents. No alarms sounded. Nothing moved.
Good.
The tent I was aiming for had a slight bulge at one wall. An equipment table, maybe. No posted guards. No obvious traps. This crew was arrogant enough they likely didn’t think they’d need traps.
I crouched low, checked the approach twice, then slipped under the canvas with a practiced flick of my wrist.
Inside, it was darker still, thick with the smell of canvas, sweat, and gun oil. And somewhere under all that, the faint crackle of electronics.
Exactly what I needed.
If I was lucky, lucky enough to still matter, the comms would be active.
The field radio rig had been patched together with more money than skill. High-end civilian tech. Not military grade, but functional. I could work with that.
I moved to it, fingers quick. There were no lights on the exterior of the unit, which was good. Meant less chance of some idiot noticing activity that shouldn’t be there.
I tuned the radio manually, one careful click at a time, until I hit the Out of Bounds emergency band.
No voice. No risk.
I tapped out the message in tight, clipped bursts of morse: SOS. Target held. Hostile camp. Poaching. Approximate coordinates. Request extraction.
I kept the whole thing short and repeated it twice, hoping like hell someone on our end was listening.
I didn’t wait for a reply. Couldn’t. Every second I lingered doubled the risk to me, to Saoirse and Ajax.
I twisted the dial back to neutral and ghosted toward the canvas flap, listening. I waited for one breath. Two.
Nothing. So far.
I had one foot out of the tent when I heard it. A low chuff. Barely a sound at all.
I froze.
Ajax didn’t break silence unless it mattered. And that wasn’t a bark for me.
Sliding along the shadowed side of the tent, I kept low, edging back toward where I’d left him. I caught sight of him through the underbrush, body rigid, head fixed in one direction.
Not toward me. Toward the tree line. Toward where Saoirse was supposed to be hidden.
A chill ripped through my gut, sharper than any cold. Something was wrong. And I was too far away.
I caught the first sharp shout a half-second later, echoing too loud in the stillness, and my heart seized.
Saoirse .
Ajax moved first. A low growl ripped out of him, and his whole body coiled like a spring. Instinct. Pure and primal. He would defend her. He would die defending her.
And for one terrifying second, I almost let him. Almost let both of us charge headlong into the teeth of a fight we couldn’t win.
But I caught him—arm wrapped hard around his chest, dragging him back into the shadows.
“Easy, lad,” I whispered, voice shaking with the effort it took to hold him. “Not yet. Not yet.”
Ajax strained against me, muscles bunching, paws digging into the earth. He whined low in his throat—angry, frustrated, hurting .
I forced myself to look past him, past the tree line, in time to see them dragging her out of the brush.
Two men. Rough hands. Her boots kicking up leaves as she fought them every inch of the way.
She twisted hard, kicking out, catching one of them square in the shin.
But it barely slowed him. The other man moved in fast, grabbing her arms, shoving her toward the center of camp like she weighed nothing at all.
I should’ve stayed closer. Should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve never let her out of reach.
And then she looked up. Through all of it—the scuffle, the shouting—her gaze locked with mine.
It hit me like a blow. The terror she hid behind clenched teeth. The trust she didn’t even have to speak.
You’ll come for me.
I tightened my grip on Ajax. “I’m coming. I swear it.” I whispered it like a vow against the side of his head.
The shadows swallowed us as I dragged him back. Each step was a wound. Each heartbeat another tally mark of how badly this had gone to hell.
But I didn’t look away. Not until the camp swallowed her, too.