Chapter 6
THE WOODS THICKENED AROUND them the deeper they drove.
Gnarled oak and slash pine crowded both sides of the narrow, uneven dirt road, their shadows long and jagged beneath the fading gold of afternoon sun.
Overhead, Spanish moss hung like ancient lace, swaying faintly with every breeze.
Callen’s car rattled over rocks and roots, the shocks doing a poor job of absorbing the bumps.
Somewhere behind them, danger still stalked the world, but here, for the moment, only the hush of the forest kept them company.
Callen gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, jaw clenched as he took another turn off the already obscure back road.
This wasn’t a trail listed on any tourist map.
It had been a game trail once, and then later widened by off-grid campers and a few park rangers who didn’t mind forging their own path.
Blaze had offered to find a fallback location, but Callen already knew exactly where they were going.
The moment the school had gone up in chaos, his gut told him to head here, to the cabin his father had built by hand before Callen ever knew what war smelled like or how grief could harden a man’s heart.
Nestled deep inside a forgotten fold of the state park, the cabin had once been their shared escape.
Just him and his old man, chopping wood and skipping stones and pretending, if only for a weekend, that the world didn’t demand so damn much from them.
The porch still bore the scrape marks from where young Callen had dragged his boots every summer, and he could still hear the echo of his father’s laugh carried on the wind.
He hadn’t been back since the funeral, but if he were honest with himself, it was the only place he had ever felt safe, so it was the one place he knew to go.
It wasn’t listed on any of the GSI fallback plans, which is also what made it perfect. It wasn’t just hidden; it was sacred.
“This is almost as much fun as a rollercoaster,” Lucas exclaimed, bouncing in his seat as he clapped his hands. At least one seemed over the scare from all the gunfire.
“Are we there yet?” Willie asked, his voice a whisper through the thick tension still crackling in the car.
“Almost,” Callen said, scanning the narrowing trail ahead as the tires crunched over gravel and roots. “Just hold on a little longer, bud.”
The words felt foreign in his mouth, like he was borrowing them from someone better suited for this, someone who knew how to talk to kids without sounding like he was mad at the entire world. And Sophie—God, she looked like a single word would shatter her she was so scared.
Callen’s gut twisted.
He wasn’t built for this. Kicking down doors, dragging corrupt diplomats out of third-world bunkers, intercepting threats before they landed on American soil, those he could handle.
But scared kindergarteners? That was a battlefield he’d never trained for.
There were no blueprints for what to say when a little girl asked if she was going to die.
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, knuckles gone white.
He should’ve insisted they hand the kids off before they jumped in the car.
Found a trusted civilian team or another teacher or anyone.
They would have been out of danger the minute they were away from Meaghan.
But no. Meaghan had made sure that wasn’t an option.
She had trusted no one else, not with these kids.
And damn it, a part of him had trusted no one else with her.
Still, he didn’t belong in this moment. He could still smell the gunpowder from the attack, feel the little boy shaking in his arms, the wild tangle of Meaghan’s hair when she turned to scream over the gunfire.
Now here they were, bouncing through a forest, kids in the backseat like fragile cargo, and him feeling like a ticking bomb behind the wheel.
The road curved again, the trees thickening as the cabin finally came into view: familiar, quiet, and for the first time in hours, something that didn’t make his pulse spike.
A breath he hadn’t realized he was holding slipped out.
“Almost there,” he muttered again, though this time he wasn’t sure who he was trying to reassure, the kids or himself.
From the passenger seat where she had moved on one of their stops, Meaghan said nothing.
She held her arms folded tight over her chest, eyes locked on the dense woods like they might reach through the glass and swallow them whole.
The tension radiating off her was practically tangible: sharp-edged, silent, and simmering with a fury only Meaghan Harrington could carry with that much control.
He almost wished he had left her in the backseat with the kids.
He remembered that look. Had seen it before, years ago, when they were kids and her father had laid down some rule that made little sense to her. She didn’t yell. Didn’t stomp or flail. She went cold, weaponizing her silence.
But he wasn’t twelve anymore, and this wasn’t about sneaking into the neighbor’s pool or ditching a piano recital. Not that he’d ever tell anyone he took piano lessons.
This was about survival.
The trees parted at last, revealing a clearing roughly the size of a football field. There, half-sunk into the curve of a hill and nestled among tall grass and wild azaleas, sat the cabin.
A dark log structure with faded green shutters and a rust-colored tin roof, it looked like it had grown from the land itself. Ivy crawled up one side, and the wraparound porch sagged in the middle, but the place was solid. Sturdy. Quiet.
Safe.
He cut the engine, letting the silence swallow them. “We’re here,” he announced, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Nobody get out yet, though. I want to take a look around first.”
He stepped out into the warm, earthy scent of pine and sun-dried leaves, scanning the perimeter first. His boots sank slightly into damp moss as he moved, eyes sweeping treelines, brush, shadows.
He reached for the Glock holstered at his side and kept it low, just in case.
Every bird call and distant squirrel scuffle sharpened his nerves.
The porch steps creaked under his weight as he tested the cabin door.
Locked, as it should be. He keyed in the code his father had created when they first put in the special lock and heard the internal click of security bolts disengaging.
A quick sweep inside confirmed what he already knew: it was clear.
Two bedrooms. One bath. A kitchenette with a wood stove and a fireplace in the main room.
Bunk beds in the side room, and a full-size bed in the other.
He would need to get food eventually, but he knew there was enough non-perishables to last for the night, having just been up there within the last month.
More if he stretched it. Good enough for now.
When he returned to the car, Meaghan had already opened the back door and was reaching for Sophie, who was sobbing into her knees.
“You’re okay now,” she whispered to the girl, smoothing her hair. “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
Callen crouched down and offered Lucas a hand out of the car. “Come on, soldier. Let’s get you somewhere with cookies and pillows.”
Lucas hesitated, then took his hand with a scowl. “I’m not a baby.”
“Didn’t say you were. Just think you’ll like this place, is all.”
Willie climbed out without help, his face pale but curious. “Is this like… a ranger house? You know, like a forest ranger?”
Callen chuckled, thinking how close the kid was. “Kind of. Only cooler. You’ll see.”
The children rushed ahead toward the porch, Sophie clinging tightly to Meaghan’s hand while Lucas and Willie clomped up the steps behind her. Callen stayed back, watching the woods for another long moment before following them in.
Once inside, the kids gravitated toward the couch like leaves to shelter.
Sophie curled up in the corner, arms wrapped around a throw pillow.
Lucas stared out the window, arms crossed, jaw clenched like he wanted to punch something but didn’t know what.
Willie poked curiously at a bear figurine carved from driftwood near the fireplace.
“I’ll start a fire,” Callen said, looking away from the small kids, needing something tangible to do. “It’ll warm up fast.”
Meaghan dropped to her knees beside the children, murmuring softly, brushing back their hair as she checked for signs of delayed trauma.
She was good with them, better than anyone he’d ever seen.
Protective, steady, calming in a way that even he couldn’t quite match.
And for all her fury and frustration and damn stubbornness… she was keeping it together. For them.
Once the fire crackled to life, casting flickering amber light across the wooden floors, Callen turned to find her searching for something, scanning the tables, the walls, frustration pinching her brow.
“What are you looking for?”
She slammed her hands to her hips. “A phone. You threw mine out the window, remember? I need to call their parents.” Her voice came out clipped, tight. “They need to know their children are safe.”
He stepped forward, wishing he didn’t have to tell her what he was about to tell her. “The whole point of being out here is to get away from people. We never installed a phone, and cell signal is almost non-existent for most services, even mine.”
She whipped around to look at him, dark eyes sparking. “That’s unacceptable, Callen. I need to get word to their folks. They have to be scared out of their minds.”
He shrugged as he moved to the kitchen to start some coffee. And search for some leftover whiskey. He really needed a drink.
“Be that as it may, there’s no normal way to call out,” he told her. “Besides, by now they might know the kids are with us and have their phones tapped. Calling their parents would leave us vulnerable.”
“I don’t care,” she snapped, her voice a harsh whisper as she glanced to the kids, making sure they weren’t listening to her. “You can’t expect us to keep them in the dark about their kids.”
He pulled out a highball glass and opened a couple of cabinets until he found a small bottle of scotch.
It was only half-filled, but it was better than nothing.
“I didn’t say that. However, I can reach out to Blaze through my satellite phone and have him reach out to their parents.
He’s our tech guy.” He turned to her, glass in one hand, scotch in the other.
“See, nice and safe. Then he can figure out how to get the kids back with their folks without risking our hides.”
She looked like she might throw something at him, and he was glad there wasn’t anything within her reach. Instead, she closed her eyes, jaw clenched tight enough to crack enamel. Then she dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, the fight leaving her in one long exhale.
“This is insane,” she hissed. “This is absolutely insane. My father…” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “What did he do to bring this…” She glanced at the kids and then lowered her voice. “Shit to my doorstep.”
He sat down across from her, the table between them like a line in the sand. He watched her brush a trembling hand through her hair, saw the glint of unshed tears in her eyes, and felt something crack open in his chest.
“I don’t know yet,” he said with a shake of his head as he twisted the bottle open. “But I promise you I’ll find out.”
She didn’t answer right away as she stared at him. The fire popped behind them as Willie found a stack of old picture books and was reading to Sophie in a whisper. Lucas sat apart, still near the door, still on guard.
She sighed as she crossed the kitchen and snatched the bottle out of his hand. “No drinking in front of the kids. Besides, don’t you need to keep your wits about you?”
Callen leaned forward, wanting to snatch the bottle out of her hand, but deciding against it.
Settling back in his seat, he lowered his voice, trying to keep his frustration from taking over.
“You’re not wrong to be pissed. I’d be pissed too.
But your dad’s not the priority right now.
They are.” He nodded toward the children. “And so are you.”
Her eyes lifted to his, full of conflicted fire. “You think I can’t take care of myself?” She twisted the lid back on the bottle and moved over to stuff it back in the cabinet and out of sight.
“I know you can.” He offered a crooked smile. “That’s why I came. Because no one else could’ve dragged you out of there.”
Despite herself, her mouth twitched as she closed the cabinet and crossed her arms over her chest.
For a brief moment, they sat there in shared quiet. Not peace, not yet, but something that looked a little like it.
Then her eyes narrowed again as she looked back over at him. “But you still left that morning without saying goodbye.”
And just like that, the air thickened again.
Callen sighed, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “It wasn’t because I didn’t care.”
“You were going to tell me you loved me,” she said, voice like glass. “I saw it on your face.”
“I was,” he admitted, his gut churning. “But your dad got elected. You were moving to D.C. and I got the deployment call that same night. It felt like the universe made the choice for us.”
“I never asked the universe,” she whispered.
That silence was heavier than any shouting match they’d ever had. But it shattered when Sophie’s voice broke through.
“Miss Harrington? Are we going home tomorrow?”
He watched as Meaghan turned instantly, swallowing her emotion. “I hope so, sweetie. I really hope so.”
Callen stood, walking to the fireplace. “We’ll make it fun here, okay? We’ll pretend it’s a vacation.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Worse vacation ever.”