Chapter 28
Caleb
My heart pounds in my chest as I pull Lana closer to me, instinctively shielding her with my body. The harsh white light of the flare exposes our position completely, casting long shadows across the rocky ledge.
“Everyone down!” I hiss, drawing my weapon. “Hawk, Nightingale—get into position!”
Both men move with practiced efficiency, flanking us while I push Julia and Richard toward the back of our natural alcove. Lana stays by my side, her breathing quick but controlled.
“They’re coming from both sides,” Hawk reports quietly, his rifle trained on the path below.
I can see them now—dark figures moving with practiced precision through the trees, heading right to our location. At least six, maybe more. Too many for us to engage directly.
“We need to move,” I tell the others. “There’s a ravine about fifty yards east. If we can reach it—”
“Attention in the rocks!” A voice calls out, amplified by what sounds like a megaphone. “We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands visible!”
The voice is oddly familiar, but I can’t place it in the chaos of the moment. My mind races through options—fight, flee, or surrender. None seems particularly appealing.
“Caleb,” Lana whispers urgently. “What do we do?”
“Wait,” I reply, studying the movement patterns below us. Something isn’t right. These aren’t standard tactical formations. They’re too exposed, too obvious. Either they’re amateurs or—
“Last warning!” the voice calls again. “Show yourselves, or we will be forced to take action!”
That voice. I know that voice.
“Hold your positions,” I tell my team, a suspicion forming. “I think I know what’s happening.”
Slowly, I edge forward to the lip of our hiding spot, keeping low but making myself visible.
“Identify yourself!” I shout down.
There’s a pause, then a figure steps into the clearing below, illuminated by the fading light of the flare. My jaw clenches as recognition hits me like a physical blow.
“Mayor William Hawthorne,” I announce to the others, my voice tight with anger. “Head of the Hawthorne family and controlling interest in NTM.”
Lana gasps behind me. “The mayor? But how did he—”
“Someone tipped him off,” I say grimly, scanning the men surrounding Hawthorne. They’re not military contractors as we expected. They’re local law enforcement—Pinecrest police officers in tactical gear.
“Caleb Brennen!” Hawthorne calls up, his polished political voice carrying clearly. “I believe you and your friends are trespassing on protected land. This area is part of the watershed preserve.”
“That’s bullshit,” I mutter. “This is Jake’s property.”
“Actually,” Richard whispers, looking pained, “this particular section is disputed territory. The boundary has been contested for decades.”
Before I can respond, movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention. Someone else is approaching from the trees with a confident stride to join Hawthorne.
As they step into the light, Lana makes a strangled sound of disbelief.
“No,” she breathes. “It can’t be.”
But it is. Standing beside Mayor Hawthorne, looking up at our position with a cold smile, is Margret Wolf.
“Hello, Richard,” Margret calls, her voice carrying a cruel edge I’ve never heard before. “Surprised to see me?”
Richard stumbles forward, confusion etched on his face. “Margret? What are you doing with him?”
“Family business,” she replies. “The Wolfs and Hawthornes have always understood each other better than outsiders could know.”
My mind races to process this betrayal. Margret—who lost her brother to NTM’s negligence, who helped us uncover the documents, who seemed as invested in exposing the truth as any of us.
“She’s been playing us from the beginning,” I realize aloud. “Feeding information to Hawthorne, leading us exactly where they wanted us.”
“Not from the beginning,” Margret corrects, overhearing me.
“Only since I realized what Richard has been hiding from me all these years.” She turns her gaze to Richard, who looks utterly devastated.
“My trusted foreman. My friend. All this time, you’ve been hunting my family’s legacy without telling me. ”
“To protect you!” Richard protests. “The Hawthornes killed your brother!”
“Danny killed my brother,” Margret snaps. “And you’ve been obsessed with fairy tales and conspiracy theories for too long, Richard.”
Mayor Hawthorne steps forward, his expression a perfect mask of concerned authority.
“Mr. Brennen, I understand Jake is your brother, but I’ve known him for years—Richard’s delusions are misleading him.
There is no corporate conspiracy. There is no hidden gold.
There are only the ramblings of a man who’s spent too long chasing ghosts. ”
“Then why are you here with armed officers?” I challenge.
“Because trespassing with weapons in a watershed preserve is a serious offense,” he replies smoothly. “And because Margret informed me that Richard has become increasingly unstable, possibly dangerous.”
Julia shifts behind me, her voice a bare whisper, looking at her phone. “He’s lying. Look at his left hand.”
I glance down at the zoomed image of Hawthorne’s hand. He is wearing an unusual ring—gold, with what appears to be a stylized mining pick crossed with another tool. The exact emblem we saw in Wolf’s journals.
“The company signet,” Richard breathes behind my shoulder. “Still in the family after all these years.”
“You have two options,” Hawthorne continues, oblivious to our discovery. “Surrender now and face trespassing charges, or resist and face much more serious consequences.”
I weigh our options quickly. We’re outnumbered by what appears to be the entire Pinecrest police force. Even with Hawk and Nightingale’s skills, a confrontation would be disastrous.
“What’s your play?” Nightingale murmurs, awaiting my decision.
“We need to buy time,” I reply quietly. “The sun rises in less than two hours. If we can stall until then...”
“I’ll handle this,” Lana says suddenly, her voice steady despite the tension. Before I can stop her, she moves to the edge of our hiding spot.
“Mayor Hawthorne!” she calls down. “I’m Lana Mills, I’m a journalist with the Toronto Star. I’m here researching historical mining practices in the region. Everything we’re doing is perfectly legal investigative work.”
I see Hawthorne falter slightly, clearly not expecting to be confronted by a journalist, fake or not. “Ms. Mills, this is still restricted property.”
“Is it?” she challenges. “Because according to provincial records, this land’s ownership is disputed. We’re within our rights to be here for research purposes. And I’m very interested in why the mayor of Pinecrest is personally leading a middle-of-the-night operation against researchers.”
It’s a brilliant play—invoking her pretend professional status changes the dynamic instantly. I can see Hawthorne reassessing, picturing the potential media fallout.
“The press has no special rights to trespass,” he says, but his confidence has visibly diminished.
“Maybe not,” Lana agrees, “but we do have the right to publish what we find. Including why the Hawthorne family seems so determined to prevent access to historical sites related to Thomas Wolf.”
Margret steps forward, placing a restraining hand on Hawthorne’s arm. They exchange words I can’t hear, their faces tight with tension.
“What are they saying?” I ask Hawk, who has the best vantage point.
“Something about ‘not worth the exposure’ and ‘find another way,’” he replies.
After a moment, Hawthorne raises his voice again. “Very well, Ms. Mills. Perhaps we can reach an agreement. I propose we all meet at my office tomorrow afternoon to discuss this situation civilly.”
“They’re backing down,” I murmur, surprised but suspicious.
“Not backing down,” Julia whispers. “Changing tactics.”
She’s right. This is too easy.
“We accept your invitation, Mayor,” Lana replies carefully. “Provided we’re allowed to complete our research here undisturbed.”
Hawthorne’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course. Scientific and historical research is valuable to our community. My officers will withdraw to the perimeter to ensure your safety.”
With visible reluctance, he signals the police to pull back. They retreat into the trees into the treeline, but I know they aren’t going far. Margret lingers a moment longer, her eyes fixed on Richard with a mixture of contempt and something that might be regret.
“You should have trusted me,” she says before turning to follow Hawthorne.
When they’re out of earshot, I pull everyone back into our alcove. “They’re still watching,” I whisper. “This changes nothing except giving us a reprieve.”
“What do we do now?” Julia asks, her earlier enthusiasm completely subdued.
“We stick to the plan,” I reply firmly. “We wait for sunrise. If Wolf’s gold is here, we find it before they can regroup.”
Richard sinks onto a rock, looking utterly defeated. “Margret... I never thought she would...”
“She feels betrayed,” Lana says gently, resting a hand on his shoulder. “You kept your connection to Thomas Wolf secret from her for years.”
“To protect her,” he insists weakly.
“Intentions don’t matter much when trust is broken,” I observe, keeping my voice low. “But we can sort that out later. Right now, we need to focus on why we’re here.”