Chapter 12
Chapter twelve
Abigail
It’s strange the things you notice when you’re trying not to think about what’s waiting at the end of the road.
I’m wedged between Jasper and Linc in the backseat, my thighs brushing theirs every time Beau shifts gears or the tires catch in a rut. The middle seat belt digs into my collarbone, and I don’t bother adjusting it. The discomfort feels… appropriate.
I didn’t miss the way each of them grabbed a handgun before we left the house.
Didn’t miss the quiet efficiency of it. No dramatics.
No speeches. Just metal checked, slides pulled back, safeties confirmed.
Jasper tucked his at the small of his back.
Lincoln slid his beneath his jacket while his brother holstered his at his hip.
And Beau clipped his beneath his coat and met my eyes like he knew I was watching.
I also didn’t miss the two rifles sitting in the bed of the truck. Ones that are usually kept in a barn or on one of their saddles in case they need it.
The sky is washed out gray. The kind you see in movies and you just know something climactic is about to happen. Snowbanks blur past and the heater hums softly. But my fingers are cold anyway.
Beau looks at me, again, through the rearview mirror. “You good back there, Darlin’?”
“I’m sandwiched between two furnaces. I’m fine,” I lie.
Jas bumps my shoulder lightly. “You’re welcome.”
Lincoln doesn’t smile, but his leg presses slightly closer to mine.
Lawson’s gaze flicks to me from the passenger seat. It lingers a second longer than the others. “You change your mind, we turn around.”
“No.” The word comes out fast. I swallow and steady my voice. “You guys didn’t want me at home alone and I don’t want you split up. This is what we’re doing.”
His jaw tightens, but he nods once.
The truck grows quiet for a few miles, tires crunching over snow-dusted asphalt.
I watch Beau’s hands on the steering wheel.
They’re rough and weathered from days spent tending to the animals, the ranch, his family.
They’re strong. Steady. They’re the same hands that held me last night and whispered words of “I love you” as I drifted off to sleep.
That softness feels far away now.
“Sebastian sent updated coordinates,” Jasper says, breaking the silence as he checks his phone. “Old hunting cabin near the Beartooth Foothills. Logging road access. Generator running intermittently.”
“Is Victor Hale there?” Lincoln asks.
Jasper scans his phone for a split second before answering. “Confirmed.”
“Who is he?” I ask.
Lincoln answers. “Former private contractor. Worked overseas. Now he does freelance enforcement work. High pay. Low conscience.”
“That’s comforting,” I murmur.
Lincoln wraps his hand around my thigh. “We’ve met him before. Honestly, he seems like all muscle no brains.”
Lincoln’s lying about as good as I was when I said I was fine.
Beau exhales through his nose. “He’s there to keep Grayson and Caleb from screwing up.”
“Or running,” Lawson adds.
“Or talking,” Jasper mutters.
The implication of Victor’s job settles thick in my chest.
I stare at the dashboard clock for what feels like the entirety of the rest of the drive. Before I know it, it’s been two hours, and I don’t think anybody has said so much as another word. Either that or I didn’t hear any of it.
Two hours.
Two hours closer to answers.
Two hours closer to them.
Rubbing my palms against my jeans, I force myself to speak evenly. “And we’re sure Kat isn’t there?”
“We don’t know for sure,” Lawson says honestly. “But if she isn’t, the two of them will know where she is.”
If.
Everything hinges on that damn word.
The truck slows as we turn off the main highway onto a narrower county road. Trees grow thicker here. Taller. Darker.
Beau kills the headlights without being told.
The sudden dimness makes my pulse spike.
“We park a half mile out,” Lawson says. “Approach on foot.”
Jasper leans forward slightly. “I’ll circle wide left with Beau. Lincoln and Lawson take the front.”
“And me?” I ask.
Four pairs of eyes shift to me at once.
“You’ll stay behind cover,” Lawson says immediately. “I don’t want you in the truck alone, but you’ll be close to us where none of them can find you.”
I sigh. “I knew that was coming.”
“It’s not about us thinking you’re incapable,” Lincoln says gently. “It’s about keeping you alive.”
“I can keep myself alive.”
I’ve been doing it for years.
“We know,” Jasper says softly. “But that’s not the point, Abbie.”
Beau glances back again. His eyes meet mine in the mirror, and something unspoken passes between us.
Fear.
For me.
“You being there changes our priorities,” he says quietly.
“How?”
“You become priority number one.”
My throat tightens. “Isn’t that already the case?” I ask, attempting to lighten the mood if only ever-so-slightly.
Jasper smirks faintly. “Yes. But I can’t focus on beating some low-life ass if all I wanna do is look at your pretty face.”
He plants a quick, wet kiss on my cheek, and I let out a small breath of laughter, despite myself.
The truck finally rolls to a stop beneath a cluster of trees. The engine dies, and silence rushes in. Thick and immediate.
For a moment, none of us move.
I can practically hear my heartbeat.
I watch as Lawson reaches for his door handle. As Jas checks the chamber of his gun one last time. And as Lincoln pulls his jacket closed and adjusts something at his back.
When I step out last, the cold air hits hard, biting at my cheeks and stinging my lungs. Snow crunches under my boots, and the forest ahead is nothing but dark shadows and trunks–dense pines packed tight enough to smother the sun.
Beau walks around the front of the truck and stops in front of me. “You will stay behind one of us. When we tell you to hide, you hide,” he says quietly. His voice laced with unfamiliar authority coming from him. Which only reminds me how serious this is.
“I will.”
“If we say run—”
“I’ll run.”
He studies my face like he’s memorizing it, before placing a gentle and all-to-quick kiss on my lips.
“I love you,” he murmurs.
“I love you too,” I whisper against his lips before he steps aside.
Jasper and Lincoln follow, each of them kissing me like the air inside my lungs is what they need to survive. And maybe… maybe it is.
Lawson saves himself for last. He doesn’t reach for me immediately. He just stands there for a moment, looking at me, committing every detail to memory. His eyes trace the slope of my nose, the freckles dusting my cheek, the way my hair catches in the wind, and the curve of my lips.
Then, he cups the back of my neck and pulls me into him. His kiss is firm. Grounded.
Not rushed or frantic. Just… certain.
When he pulls back, his thumb drags slowly along my cheek. And then he says it. “I love you.”
My world stops and my breath catches. “Lawson—”
He clenches his jaw and his dark brown eyes dance between mine. “I’m done waiting for the right moment to say it. This is it. I love you.” He kisses me again. “I love you.” And again. “I. Love. You.”
Emotion swells so fast in my chest it almost hurts. “I—”
“Tell me after,” he interrupts gently, a small smile pulling at his lips. “When we’re done.”
His hand lingers at my jaw like it physically pains him to let go.
But he does.
And just like that, the moment is over.
I don’t miss the way Beau’s hand hovers near his coat where his gun sits.
I don’t miss the way Lawson scans the tree line before taking a single step forward.
Or the way Lincoln’s expression has gone utterly unreadable.
And I don’t miss the way Jasper’s expression shifts to that of someone that’s entirely lethal.
This is the kind of moment that divides life into before and after.
I thought once, that that moment was when I was handed over to Aleksandr. And then again to Maxim.
Then, there was the night that I ran, and the moment I stepped off of the plane in Billings. I thought every single one of those moments was the stepping-off point for the rest of my life.
But now, in the middle of the woods, surrounded by the four of them, I know that moment is now. Because somewhere ahead of us, in a cabin hidden in the trees, are men who want to tear my—our world apart.
They want to ruin our after.
I draw in a slow breath.
Please let my sister be there.
Please let her be alive.
The five of us move into the trees together, boots sinking into untouched snow.
Four men around me.
Armed.
Steady.
Willing.
And as fear coils low in my stomach, something else rises with it.
Not helplessness.
Not this time.
This time, I am walking toward the danger—not being dragged into it.
And whatever waits for us at that cabin…
It will not find me alone.