Chapter 28
CHANCE
Mornings on the mountain are usually quiet and predictable, but not this one. I lace up my boots before the sun has even thought about rising, grab my gloves, and step outside into the sharp bite of cold air.
The world is covered in a thin layer of fresh snow which is perfect for tracking. And that’s exactly what I came out here to do. Luck is on our side for a change.
I start my usual perimeter run, my lungs burning from the cold as I jog along the tree line. The snow muffles everything except the crunch of my boots. About fifteen minutes in, at the southern edge of the property, I stop short.
There are fresh boot prints in the snow, and I know immediately they don’t belong to any of us. No way Dillon came out for an early-morning walk, and Boone is still curled up with Rox. I checked on them before I left.
My heart clenches as I drop into a crouch, my fingers hovering over the impressions. The tread pattern is heavy, deep, and size eleven.
Whoever left these has a longer stride, their weight settling into their heels. They’ve been here a while judging by the overlapping prints, the snow compacted in places the way it only gets when someone stays put.
My head whips around. The line of sight is immediately obvious. A straight through the break in the trees, directly toward the master bedroom windows. A cold spike slides down my spine. I pull out my phone and take pictures from every angle.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter as I stand.
Someone was way too close last night, watching us from just out of sight of our cameras. I don’t run the rest of the way back.
I sprint.
The guys are already up when I slam through the mudroom door. Dillon has coffee going, Boone pacing by the fireplace. I burst in and don’t even stop to breathe.
“I found something.”
They look up immediately. I motion for them to come closer, then pull out my phone and show them the photos. “Those boot prints are fresh. Southern border. Someone camped there for a while, staring straight at your bedroom window.”
Boone swears under his breath. “Fuck. She got into bed with me early this morning.”
Dillon’s eyes flick over the pictures. “Do you think it’s Rossi?”
“It could be,” I say, then glance back at Boone. “Look, I know you’re not going to want to hear this, but the timing is too damn convenient. He doesn’t show up out here the same day you tell Tessa to go fuck herself unless she’s in on it.”
Boone rakes both hands through his hair. “Fuck.”
“Showing up when she did wasn’t an accident,” I say, absolutely, one hundred percent convinced. “Either someone sent her or she’s been paid to bring eyes with her, but she’s working with them. Dillon, dig into her finances. See what you can find. I’m right. I know it.”
He’s already typing before I even finish the sentence, delving into his laptop with that intensely focused calm that can’t be taught. A few minutes of rapid keystrokes later, the clacking stops.
“I found it.”
Boone steps closer. “What?”
“A twenty-thousand-dollar wire transfer,” Dillon says. “Three weeks ago. From a shell corporation registered out of Delaware.”
I frown. “Who’s behind it?”
“Who do you think?” Dillon’s expression hardens. “I followed the trail just to be sure. The shell is owned by another shell, which is funded by a holding company that when you peel back enough layers, ties directly to one of Caruso’s laundering pipelines.”
Boone drops his head back, eyes narrowing in a piercing, withering glare at the ceiling, his fury locked down so tight it has nowhere to go.
“She was paid to give them intel. Our location. Our routines. Maybe even where Roxie fucking sleeps if someone was stupid enough to tell her.” He closes his eyes like the sucker punch finally lands.
“That stupid—” He cuts himself off, his voice cracking with rage and something dangerously close to grief. “She sold us out. Sold me out. Again.”
“Hey,” I say, stepping in and curling a hand around his shoulder, holding on tight. “This isn’t on you.”
But he doesn’t hear me.
Dillon snaps the laptop shut. “What matters is that we know now.”
Boone braces his hands on the counter, his shoulders shaking once before he forces them still. When he finally looks up, his eyes are ice-cold. “No more chances. Tessa’s done. Caruso’s men are done. Anyone who comes near her is done, too. We’ve got eyes in town. Let’s use them.”
Adrenaline buzzes through my blood, and this time it feels right. This isn’t just a threat anymore. It’s a battle line, and someone crossed it.
Boone storms out. Even though it’s only been minutes, urgency floods my veins, impossible to ignore.
I turn to Dillon. “Get on the phone. Someone in law enforcement has to be building a case against Caruso. Find out who. We’re going to need help.
At the end of the day, Roxie is a witness. They’ll want to talk to her anyway.”
He nods and jumps on the phone, already digging into contacts from his hacking work. I leave Boone to burn off what he needs to so he can come back focused. I do another sweep of the perimeter from the windows.
I also call the people we have watching our backs in town, telling them to flag anything or anyone suspicious. After all our donations, anonymous and otherwise, we’ve made a lot of loyal friends.
Then I head upstairs and review last night’s feeds, focusing on the areas I know our visitor was near.
Nothing.
They knew exactly where our blind spots were.
Tessa’s fucking pictures. Roxie says she had a camera with her the other day. Shit.
By the time I make it back downstairs, I’m seething, but Dillon has news.
“I got through to FBI Agent Sarah Mitchell,” he says, gesturing me closer, phone still in hand. “She’s building a case against Caruso.”
I nod, but reality hits hard. “Local PD response time?”
“We’re too remote. Thirty to forty-five minutes,” Dillon says. “That’s what she’s worried about. She’s looping them in now.”
Thirty to forty-five minutes.
Plenty of time for Caruso or anyone he sends to do damage.
I clench my fists. The isolation I love about this place is also what makes it dangerous as hell.
I head straight to the weapons cache, moving methodically. Every magazine. Every round. Every sight. Boone’s already fortified several positions, but I map the house in my head, choke points, angles, exits.
I visualize an attack from every direction. This isn’t paranoia. It’s training. I know what being prepared looks like.
Boone finds me in the study, quietly loading magazines. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. “You’ve gone full Marine again.”
I shrug, never stopping. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe. If I have to become someone she doesn’t recognize to do it, you can bring me back when it’s over. I don’t care what it costs me as long as Roxie and the babies come out alive.”
He watches me like a man staring at a fuse burning too close to dynamite.
Finally, he exhales and pushes off the frame.
“Just keep your triggers in check. All of them. I know you’ll do what needs doing, but we already dragged you back from the edge once, McShane.
I’ll do it again if I have to, just don’t make me worry about you on top of worrying about her. ”
I nod, sharp and obedient.
We both know better.
That isn’t a promise I can make.
Something inside me is already stretching awake, sniffing the air like it smells blood.
I spent years burying it under discipline, routine, and code, but it has teeth. And when I let it off the leash, it doesn’t stop until everything in its path is destroyed.
That’s the part command relied on. The part they sent in when they wanted something done.
I tried to build a new life when I got out. I learned cybersecurity. I built the business with Dillon and Boone. I told myself protecting people from behind a screen is enough.
But every few months, a private security outfit reaches out.
Rescue ops. Extraction. Black-bag work.
And every time, something in me twitches.
Like the beast inside lifts its head and says, There. That. Let me have that.
I hate how much it wants that. I never want Roxie to see that man, the one who doesn’t flinch at violence or hesitate to be the one perpetrating it.
The man who can justify anything in the name of protection.
But with Caruso circling and danger creeping into our quiet little world, I feel it rising.
The darkness. The old instincts. The part of me she wouldn’t recognize.
It feels inevitable now that she’ll meet that man. I’m already halfway gone to him, but I fight him back, knowing it isn’t time yet.
After I load all the weapons Boone and Dillon think I’m insane for buying, I find Roxie in the nursery.
Soft late-afternoon light slants through the window, catching tiny snowflakes clinging to the branches outside. My angel is curled in the rocking chair, her hands trembling slightly, her eyes wide.
I feel the fear radiating off her like heat from a fire.
I kneel in front of her, sliding my hands onto her knees.
“Hey,” I say softly. “I know you’re scared. I know this is a lot, but we’re going to survive it, okay? We’ll be fine.”
“I just don’t want them to hurt any of you.” Her voice breaks. “Or the babies.”
“No one is touching them.” I shake my head, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Or any of you. Not while I’m here. I promise you that, Roxie.”
She leans into me, burying her face against my chest, and I hold her like she’s the most fragile thing in the world even though I know she’s the strongest of us. I take the moment to memorize her warmth, the scent of her hair.
Moments like this are what I’ll fight to protect later, even if it means becoming someone darker than she’s ever imagined. Hopefully, these memories will be enough to pull me back.
“I promise,” I murmur into her hair. “One day, you’re going to have the boring, normal, perfect life you deserve. I’ll make sure of it.”
I just hope I’m there to live it with you.