Northern Stretch cont.
(Late night Near Sault Ste. Marie, Michigan – remote forest service road, 2 miles from the Canadian border)
The gravel road narrowed until it was little more than two tire tracks flanked by tall pines.
Elias slowed the SUV to a crawl, headlights on low beam, scanning the darkness ahead.
The twins had been quiet for the last stretch, lulled by the steady hum of the engine and the darkness outside, but the change in speed stirred them.
Aiden rubbed his eyes with chubby fists, mumbling a sleepy "Go?"
Aria, more alert, pressed her face to the window. "Trees?"
At nineteen months, their speech was just blooming—single words mostly, a few two-word phrases when excited, lots of pointing and babble. Clear enough to melt hearts, but still the sweet, halting talk of babies discovering language.
Jennie smiled despite the tension knotting her stomach. "Yes, babies. Lots of trees. We're almost there."
The clearing opened up ahead. A single black pickup sat parked under the overhanging branches, headlights off.
A man leaned against the driver's door—middle-aged, broad-shouldered, scarred face lit by the faint orange glow of a cigarette.
Jacques. He raised one hand in a slow, deliberate wave when the SUV's lights swept over him.
Elias exhaled through his nose. "That's him. Looks right." He cut the engine but left the keys in the ignition. The silence of the forest rushed in—wind in the pines, distant owl call, the soft ticking of the cooling motor.
Jennie leaned forward between the front seats, studying the figure in the distance. "You sure?"
"Positive. Same truck he described. Same scar across the left cheek.
" Elias turned to her, voice low and steady.
"Here's the plan: I go over first, talk to him, get the papers and confirm the boat's ready.
You and the kids stay here—doors locked, engine running.
If anything feels wrong—anything at all—you floor it back down the road. Don't wait for me."
Jennie's fingers tightened on the back of his seat. "Elias—"
"I know what I'm doing," he said gently, meeting her eyes in the dim glow of the dashboard. "This is the safest way. Jacques is solid. I pulled him out of a silver trap once—he owes me. But I'm not taking chances with you three."
She searched his face, then nodded. "Be quick. And be careful."
He gave her a small, reassuring smile, squeezed her hand once, then stepped out into the cold.
The car door closed with a soft thud. Jennie immediately hit the locks, the click loud in the quiet interior.
She turned to the twins, forcing a bright, calm voice despite the anxious knot in her stomach.
"Okay, my brave little ones," she said, reaching back to stroke Aiden's cheek and then Aria's. "Big adventure now. See man?" She pointed through the windshield at Jacques in the distance. "Friend. Help us go new place."
Aiden blinked up at her, clutching his stuffed wolf. "New?"
"New home," Jennie said softly, smiling. "Big trees. Snow. Fun."
Aria pointed too, excited. "Snow!"
"Yes, snow!" Jennie laughed quietly. "Play snow. Build... castle?" She mimed piling snow with her hands, and both twins watched, fascinated.
Aiden babbled "Cas... tle?"
"Castle," Jennie repeated gently. "Big castle. You help Mama."
Aria bounced a little. "Me help!"
"That's right," Jennie whispered, leaning to kiss each of their foreheads. "You help. Mama show you run... trees. Soon wolf." She made a soft playful growl, and the twins giggled—Aiden hiding behind his wolf, Aria growling back in her tiny voice.
"Woof!" Aria declared proudly.
"Woof," Aiden echoed shyly.
Jennie's heart swelled, pushing back the fear for a moment. "My perfect little wolves. Big fun coming."
Through the windshield, she watched Elias approach Jacques. The two men met in the middle of the clearing, speaking in low voices, Jacques pulling an envelope from his jacket.
Everything looked normal.
For now.
Jennie turned back to the twins, keeping the smile on her face, voice light and full of promise.
"Just little wait. Then new adventure start."
Elias stepped out of the SUV into the biting cold, boots crunching on packed snow.
The clearing was quiet—too quiet—only the wind whispering through the pines and the distant hoot of an owl.
Jacques stood twenty yards away, leaning against his black pickup, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark.
He raised a hand in greeting, but something in the gesture felt. .. stiff.
Elias kept his hands visible but loose at his sides, senses on high alert as he approached. The envelope of cash weighed heavy in his inner pocket—half payment now, half on the other side.
"Jacques," Elias called, voice low but carrying. "Good to see you, old friend."
Jacques pushed off the truck, taking a drag on his cigarette. The orange tip illuminated his scarred face for a split second—familiar lines, the same crooked nose Elias remembered from five years ago. But his eyes... they darted too quickly to the treeline, then back.
"Elias," Jacques replied in his gravelly French accent. "You made good time. The boat's ready downstream. Quiet night—no patrols."
Elias stopped ten feet away, close enough to talk, far enough to react. He studied the man: shoulders tense, jaw tight, cigarette trembling just slightly between his fingers.
Something was off.
Jacques had always been calm under pressure—the kind of rogue who could stare down a silver trap without flinching. But now his scent carried a sharp edge of fear-sweat under the tobacco, and his pulse thrummed visibly at his throat.
Elias's instincts screamed.
"You okay?" Elias asked casually, tilting his head. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
Jacques forced a laugh—too loud, too short. "Long night. Waiting in the cold. You know how it is." He took another drag, but his hand shook.
Elias's eyes narrowed. "Where's the crew? You said you'd have two guys for the boat."
"Down by the river," Jacques said quickly. "Prepping. We go now, yes?"
Too fast. Too eager.
Elias glanced past him to the truck—shadows inside the cab shifted faintly. More than one silhouette.
His blood ran cold.
Jacques wasn't nervous because of the cold.
He was afraid—terrified—of what was waiting in the trees.
Elias's hand moved slowly toward his coat. "Jacques... what did they offer you?"
The older man's face crumpled for a split second—guilt, regret—before hardening. "I'm sorry, mon ami. The bounty... it was too much. They promised safe passage for my family if I—"
Floodlights snapped on from every direction, blinding white beams pinning Elias in place.
Engines roared. Black SUVs burst from the treeline, tires spitting gravel as they encircled the clearing.
Hunters poured out—twelve, maybe more—rifles raised, silver blades glinting, ward stones glowing in their fists.
Jacques dropped the cigarette, raising his hands. "I had no choice!"
Elias drew his sidearm in a blur, backing toward the SUV. "Jennie—go!"
The first shot rang out.
The ambush had sprung.
Inside the car, Jennie's training—years of survival, rogue drills with Elias, instinctive Veiled reflexes—kicked in like a switch flipping.
She didn't freeze. She moved.
In one fluid motion, she unbuckled, vaulted over the center console into the driver's seat, and slammed the vehicle into reverse. The twins wailed in terror at the sudden noise and light—Aiden's cry sharp, Aria's turning into a frightened growl.
"Elias!" Jennie yelled out the cracked window, voice cutting through the chaos. "Get in—now!"
Elias was already firing—controlled bursts dropping two hunters before a tranq dart grazed his arm. He snarled, ripping it free, but the sedative burned in his veins.
"Drive!" he roared back, diving behind the SUV's rear as bullets pinged off the frame. "Go without me—take the kids!"
"Not happening!" Jennie shouted, shadows exploding from her body in thick, inky waves. They surged outward, cloaking the SUV in perfect darkness—visual, thermal, scent all erased. The vehicle vanished from hunter sight.
But the ward stones were already in play. One hunter hurled a glowing red orb; it landed near the invisible car and pulsed. Jennie's cloak flickered violently, shadows shredding like torn fabric.
The hunters adjusted, firing at the disruption point.
Jennie floored it in reverse, tires spinning before catching. The SUV lurched backward, scraping past one hunter vehicle. She cranked the wheel hard, aiming for the narrow gap in the encirclement.
"Elias—door!" she screamed.
He sprinted alongside the moving car, one hand on the roof for balance, firing over the hood to keep heads down. A bullet grazed his shoulder—blood bloomed—but he yanked the passenger door open and dove inside as Jennie swung the vehicle around.
The SUV fishtailed onto the access road, shadows flickering but holding just enough to confuse aim. Bullets shattered the rear window; glass rained over the twins' car seats. Jennie threw a shadow barrier up instinctively, deflecting most shards.
Elias slammed the door shut, blood soaking his sleeve. "Go—go—go!"
Jennie punched the accelerator, the SUV roaring down the dark road. Headlights off, she drove by instinct and faint moonlight, shadows cloaking their trail as best she could while fighting the disrupting wards behind them.
In the back, the twins cried—Aiden veiling his blanket in panic, Aria's little growls turning to scared whimpers.
Elias slumped against the door, pressing a hand to his bleeding shoulder, face pale but eyes fierce. "Logging trail... two miles... left fork..."
Jennie's hands white-knuckled the wheel, jaw set. "We're getting out of this. All of us."
Behind them, engines roared in pursuit—hunters giving chase, radios crackling with coordinates.
The border was close.
But the night had turned deadly.