Chapter 12 #6
Trenton and Matthew come back from checking the generator. They're already wearing a look I know well, the one that means the planning phase is over and the execution phase is starting.
"Morgan." Trenton stops in front of me. His hand finds the back of my neck, his thumb pressing into the muscle just below my hairline. "We're going now."
I look at Trenton and Matthew beside him. At the two of them standing together in this small mountain cabin with their shoulders set and their faces hard and their eyes full of things they can't say out loud.
"Find him," I tell them.
Matthew steps forward and presses his mouth to my forehead. His lips are warm. "We will."
Trenton's hand tightens on the back of my neck for one more second, one more second of this, of us, of the three of us standing in a room together, and then he lets go.
They move toward the door. Matthew grabs a bag from beside the sofa, the weapons bag, the one that's been in the truck since we left the house. My father turns from the window and crosses to them, and the three men speak in low voices by the door for a moment, a quick exchange I can't hear.
Then the door opens, and cold air rushes in, and Trenton and Matthew step out into the dark.
I move to the window. My father pulls the curtains back for me.
I watch the headlights of Matthew's truck flare to life in the clearing, the engine catching with a low rumble.
Trenton climbs into the passenger seat. For one moment, before the truck turns, the interior light catches his face, and he's looking back at the cabin.
At me.
Then the light goes out, and the truck pulls away, and the red of its taillights disappears into the trees.
My father's hand lands on my shoulder. Solid. Warm.
"They'll be back," he says.
I nod. I don't trust my voice.
Behind me, from the bedroom, I hear Charlie make a small sound in her sleep. Not a nightmare sound. Just the sound of a child shifting position, finding a new comfortable spot in a strange bed.
I turn from the window and go to her.
Evan Harris
I watch the taillights disappear down the mountain road, my jaw clenched so tight it aches. They moved her. They actually moved her. After everything I've done, after the message I left, they still think they can hide her from me.
The cold mountain air bites at my face as I lower the binoculars. The cabin sits in the valley below, a small light burning in one window. My Charlie is in there, surrounded by those people who think they can steal what's mine.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, another text from Randy asking where I am, when we're meeting up.
I silence it without looking. Those three idiots I hired to create a distraction failed spectacularly.
Not that I expected much from them. The young one especially, he looked ready to piss himself when I gave him his instructions at the bar.
I run a hand over my beard, feeling the rough stubble I've let grow. The police have my picture now, so I've had to change my appearance. Just temporarily, until I get Charlie back.
The binoculars reveal movement on the cabin's porch, a large man pacing, his cigarette glowing in the dark. They've got security. Of course they do. But they don't know what I'm capable of, how far I'll go to get what belongs to me.
She acts like I am not worthy to be in the same room with her precious little family. She has no idea what I've done for women like her, how I've made them pure, how I've saved them from their own weaknesses.
But Morgan is different. Because Morgan took Charlie. And Charlie is mine.
I slide down from my perch in the rocks, careful not to dislodge any stones that might give away my position.
I've been watching this cabin for hours, waiting for them to arrive, mapping the approaches and escape routes.
I know the terrain better than they think.
I've hunted in these mountains since I was a boy.
And I know everything about her. I know everything about those bastards and their families too. Every single vacation home, every shed.
I had a feeling if they ran they would run to this cabin, because it's the closest and most secluded.
The two men left, Trenton and Matthew—the soldiers, the protectors. They think they're going to find me, but I'm already ten steps ahead. Let them chase their tails in town while I deal with what really matters.
I make my way back to where I parked my truck, hidden behind a dense thicket of pines. The engine starts quietly as I've had it modified to run almost silent. As I pull onto the narrow forest service road, my mind is already planning my next move.
The message with the deer head was just the beginning. A warning shot. Now they'll see what happens when someone takes what belongs to me.
I drive slowly, headlights off, using the faint glow of the stars to navigate the winding road. My hands are steady on the wheel. I've done this before, hunted those who thought they could escape me. The other women learned the hard way. Morgan will too.
The road curves, and the trees open up to reveal a small clearing where I've set up my temporary base.
The tent is barely visible against the dark forest floor, and my supplies are organized with military precision.
I've lived this way before, off the grid, self-sufficient. The police will never find me here.
I step out of the truck, breathing in the pine-scented air. This is where I belong, in the wild, away from the chaos and weakness of civilization. I've always been able to see clearly out here.