Chapter Eight #2
The leader of the assholes spoke again. “Keep it together, boys. Stay calm. Like he said, it was just a little warning shot.”
Ezra snorted without taking his eyes off the enemy. “You sure? Felt more like a formal invitation to a bloodbath to me.”
The center one leaned forward. “You’ve been warned, Eli. You know what you need to do to not put a target on these people.”
Then they vanished into the woods.
Moments later, just seconds really, and trucks burst through the gate. Eli heard the unmistakable sound of quad bikes tearing off into the forest.
Marsh’s voice cut through the chaos. “Eli!”
Before Eli could lift his head, he was scooped up from a prone position on the ground like he weighed nothing. Marsh’s grip was all muscle and fury.
“You got shot? What the fuck, Eli!” Marsh was pissed.
“In the arm, not the face,” Eli tried, wincing, feeling a little nauseated because of the pain but also the speed at which Marsh plucked him from the ground and was now heading back to his truck.
“Blake! We’ll need you at the infirmary, enroute now.” Marsh spoke then placed him like he weighed nothing into the truck. He slammed the door shut with a curse, sprinted around the front of the truck then peeled out toward the infirmary.
Eli leaned his head back, wincing as the adrenaline faded.
Marsh’s jaw was clenched so tightly Eli could see the muscle twitching. “You almost died. You don’t get to be calm about that.”
Eli looked over at him, voice low but steady. “I’m calm because you’re here. Because I know you’ve got me.”
Marsh slammed a hand against the steering wheel. “I want to kill every one of those bastards. Rip them apart. You were bleeding and I saw it all on the fucking camera. You wouldn’t have been shot if you hadn’t been trying to protect Ty—”
“I had to,” Eli interrupted gently. “It’s what we do, right? Protect each other.”
Marsh’s grip tightened on the wheel as he cursed around gritted teeth, but his breathing evened slightly. “Don’t be fucking reasonable when I want to burn the world to ashes! The only reason Ty still breaths is that I saw him move in front of you.”
“For a big guy, he moves damn fast.” That made him think and then Eli managed a small grin. “Damn, babe ... your leg’s gotta be strong as hell to dead lift me like that.”
Marsh shot him a death glare.
Eli winked. “Remind me never to piss off your prosthetic.”
Marsh made a sound that was half-laugh, half-growl, but his hands never stopped gripping the wheel like he could steer backward through time and save him from getting shot.
Eli let the silence take over then, watching the trees blur past, the pain starting to pulse in his arm. They were safe—for now. But the warning hung in the air like smoke.
****
The four men stood at attention before the Colonel, their presence still humming with the tension of the encounter. Mud splattered on their boots, clothes smelling of powder and pine.
“The message was sent,” the tallest of them said with a hint of smug satisfaction. “And received loud and clear.”
Another one, his eyes sharp under a scarred brow, added, “He was there. We made sure he knew it wasn’t a bluff.”
The Colonel leaned back in his chair, his expression near reverent. He drummed his fingers against the polished oak desk. “And the others?”
“Rattled but still standing. The shot went exactly where we meant it to. They returned fire, just one shot. Took Benson in the vest.”
The man who had spoken first turned to the Colonel. “Sir ... one of them. I recognized him. Ezra Navarro. He had a brother, Donovan Knowles.”
That made the Colonel pause.
The leader of their group said. “Van Knowles.” He whistled low. “Pathfinder. Those bastards were legends.”
“He wasn’t just a legend, sir. Van was part of a team even the brass wouldn’t say out loud unless they had clearance. And if Ezra’s anything like him, this is going to get ... complicated.”
One of the men spoke again, his tone quieter now. “Sir, there was a mission, years ago. Urban jungle in West Africa. Whole cartel cell wiped out in under six hours. No casualties on our side. No video. No trace. Just whispers. People believed that it was ghosts.”
Another nodded slowly. “That was the Pathfinders. I’d bet my rifle on it. They made it look like magic. Or a nightmare. Ezra’s brother Van led that op. There are stories intel officers won’t even log. We’re not dealing with amateurs.”
The Colonel’s eyes gleamed. “Good. Let the myth make them bold. And let it fuel our resolve.”
The Colonel stood, rounded his desk. He reached for the locked drawer and retrieved a black case. It landed on the desk with a metallic thud.
He popped it open. Inside—stacks of untraceable bills. Thick, tempting.
The scarred one crossed his arms. “This is going to take planning. Time. And a lot more men. It’s not impossible, and if I’m honest,” the man smiled, “I’d like to try our men up against the Pathfinders. I reckon we have what it takes to take them down.”
The Colonel waved a hand. “Fine. Get more men. Take some time.” He leaned forward, voice dropping into a growl. “But not too much. I want my rabbit back. Bring him back to me. My rabbit’s been running too long.” His fingers traced the lid of the case. “Do whatever you have to.”
And for the first time in weeks, the Colonel smiled. Wide. Certain. Triumphant.