Chapter 35
Finn
The rain was steady by the time I stepped out of the trees, the wet ground sucking at my boots as I crossed the trampled edge of the compound.
The site was crawling with high-vis jackets now, Police Scotland moving through the debris of the broken camp with methodical, clipped precision.
Evidence bags. Radios. A slow, quiet hum of containment.
Victor Sandhurst stumbled a half-step behind me, soaked through, mud streaking his jacket. He’d been running his mouth the whole way back, like he couldn’t stand the silence. Threats. Legal jargon. Half-baked reminders of who he thought he was.
“They won’t hold me,” he muttered for the fifth time. “I’ve had drinks with cabinet ministers. Golfed with half of Parliament.”
I didn’t answer as I continued to drag him toward the authorities.
An officer near the center of the compound looked up, clocked me, and stepped forward. He was mid-thirties, square-shouldered, and clearly in charge of the field team still on-site. I stopped in front of him and gave the leash of zipties a small, sharp tug to draw Sandhurst up short beside me.
“Victor Sandhurst. He’s the money. He ran.”
The officer raised a brow at my declaration, but he didn’t ask questions as he reached out and took hold, snapping the restraints into his own grip like he’d been expecting this moment all day.
Sandhurst straightened, water sliding down his cheeks in thin rivulets as he sneered. “I’ll have your badge for this. All of you.”
I was already turning away. Let him spit and sputter into the gray light. My part in this was done.
One of the constables nodded toward the back of a marked Land Rover.
A silent offer of a ride. I’d take it. I was dead tired, and my canine companion had gone so far above and beyond.
The officer waited for me to load Ajax in the back.
The dog moved stiffly, favoring his wounded flank, but climbed in without complaint, like even he understood this last piece of the job had taken its toll.
I settled beside him, boots dripping onto the rubber mats as the rest of me leaked rain into the seat creases.
The way back to the trailhead was long and roundabout, considering there weren’t really roads for most of it.
Eventually, we came out on a narrow and winding track.
Mist clung to the verge and curled around fence posts.
Inside the vehicle, the heater clicked on low and the wipers kept time with the ache behind my eyes.
When we pulled up to the trailhead, my 4x4 was right where I’d left it, parked off to one side and spattered with fresh rain. I gave a curt nod to the constable as I opened the door. “Appreciate the lift.”
He tipped his head in return. “Glad you made it out.”
I expected there’d be debriefs and more questions later, but I was grateful for the fact that he was letting me go now. The past several days were starting to sink in and exhaustion weighed at my limbs.
I got Ajax loaded into the backseat as gently as I could, pausing to ruffle his ears once he settled with a sigh.
Then I climbed into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and exhaled into the hush of my own truck.
The rain tapped softly on the windshield.
For the first time in what felt like days, I let my grip ease on the wheel.
The drive back to Glenlaig didn’t take long, but long enough for the weight in my shoulders to settle in deeper.
It had been maybe sixteen hours since we took the compound.
Far less since I’d handed Sandhurst over to the uniforms still picking through the wreckage.
But it felt like days. Weeks. Like the wilderness had stretched time until I wasn’t sure what hour it really was anymore.
The village emerged through the rain with the kind of quiet only a place like Glenlaig could hold.
Stone walls damp from drizzle, windows glowing softly behind drawn curtains, gardens wind-lashed but tidy.
Normal. Comforting. So far removed from rifles and blood and the hard scrape of zipties against skin that it almost didn’t feel real.
I pulled up in front of my house and killed the engine. The silence after the hum of the motor was sharp and sudden. For a moment, I sat there, watching the rain streak down the windscreen, listening to the slow tick of the cooling engine and Ajax’s even breathing behind me.
I wanted the quiet. The empty. A place to wash off the last of the hunt and pretend, for a few hours, that it was over. Except when I stepped out of the truck and rounded toward the front door, I saw the faint flicker of movement behind the window curtain, followed by the low rumble of male voices.
Shite. They were already inside.
The door creaked open under my hand, and I barely had time to register the warmth of the space before the smell of fried something, the faint hiss of oil, and the unmistakable clink of glass bottles knocking together hit me.
My kitchen had been raided. Fully, unapologetically raided.
Callum was sprawled on the couch like he owned it, boots kicked up on the old crate I used as a coffee table.
Ewan had claimed an armchair, legs spread, a beer dangling from his fingers, and no sign he intended to move.
Alex had taken over my kitchen like he paid rent, sleeves rolled up as he flipped something in a pan and reached for the last can of beer from the six-pack they’d already decimated.
“Look what the dog dragged in.” Callum didn’t even glance up, chin lifting to nod toward Ajax, who padded in behind me with the slow confidence of someone who knew damn well he was about to be fed.
I stood there for a beat too long, rain dripping, mud still clinging to my boots, and something in my chest cracked wide with the kind of relief that didn’t have words. This mess of noise and sarcasm and too many boots on too few surfaces was home.
And it was exactly what I hadn’t known I needed.
“Sandhurst?” Ewan asked it without preamble. Squad leader waiting for the final report.
I nodded once. “In custody.”
Callum grunted. Alex didn’t look up from the pan, but his voice cut in, even. “Good.”
I stepped further into the house, peeling off my jacket and moving straight to fill Ajax’s food bowl. Poor lad had gone far too long without a proper meal. “Glad we’re all breaking and entering now. Too impatient to wait for a key? Or an invite?”
Callum gestured vaguely at the fridge with a bottle already in hand. “Your beer was going to expire.”
I fixed him with a glare. “It’s a lager, no’ milk.”
Ewan leaned back in my kitchen chair like he owned the place. “Still would’ve been a crime to let it sit unloved.”
“Is that my last pack of bacon?” I narrowed my eyes at the stove as Ajax went nose first into his kibble.
Alex flipped the pan casually. “Was.”
I groaned and ran a hand down my face. “You arseholes eat like you haven’t had a meal since deployment.”
“We saved your sorry arse from doing something stupid.” Callum cracked open another beer. “You’re lucky we didn’t take your mattress, too.”
Ajax gave a small, tired thump of his tail from where he’d already polished off half the bowl. At least someone here remembered whose house this was.
I dropped into the nearest chair, the kind of exhaustion that wasn’t merely physical sinking into my bones.
Ewan handed me a beer from a second six-pack they must’ve brought with them, and they continued to sling shite back and forth.
The banter helped. For a second, it made everything feel almost normal.
But only for a second. Because we all knew what was still sitting beneath it. Waiting.
The laughter didn’t last. Like a fire without enough fuel, it burned out fast and left the air heavy behind it.
Callum sat forward, elbows on his knees. “Cleanup wasnae the only reason you went after him.”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t have to.
“You went because you didn’t want to see her.”
The words landed square in my chest, sharp and clean. I looked down, fingers curled around the neck of the beer I hadn’t even touched. The label was already damp under my grip. “I failed her. I failed them both. I promised I’d protect her. And I didn’t.”
“Bollocks.” The snap of Ewan’s tone had Ajax lifting his head from his bowl.
“Look, every one of us has been where you are. Every one of us had our women taken in one way or another. You had our six in getting them back. We had yours. You did exactly what you were hired to do. You found Isla. You called us in. You held the line until we got there. That’s no’ failure, mate. That’s the job.”
I shook my head once, rough. “She still got taken.”
Alex turned off the stove, silence stretching in the sizzle that followed. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “She wasn’t expecting some perfect man. She was trusting the real one.”
That hit harder than it should have. Because I knew exactly what version of me she’d seen out there, and it wasn’t the one I’d spent years building armor around. It was the raw one. The one that didn’t have the right words, but still tried to give her something to hold on to in the dark.
And that was what scared the hell out of me.
Callum’s one-eyed gaze locked on mine. “You’re scared. Good. Means it matters.”
I didn’t deny it. Couldn’t. And maybe I was a little afraid of exactly how much Saoirse MacGregor had come to mean to me.
Ewan tipped his beer back, then gestured with the bottle. “You gonna be a coward about it?”
I flinched. An unacceptable betrayal of emotion, but I was beyond masking anymore, and these were my closest mates.
Alex pushed off the counter, wiping his hands on a tea towel like the whole conversation wasn’t gutting me open. “And Ajax still needs a checkup. Pretty sure we know someone qualified.”
I stared down at the dog who’d curled at my feet, his ears twitching as he lay, head on paws, watching me.
Yeah. We did.
I leaned down to scratch him beneath the jaw. “Aye. But she’ll be resting now. Tomorrow is soon enough.”
And maybe by the time the sun rose again, I’d have some idea what to say to her.