Chapter 18
Wyatt
The north fence line looks like every bad omen rolled into one—snow churned up, tracks where they shouldn’t be, wire sagging like something big shoved through it.
Tank stands over the broken section, breathing hard, steam curling from his mouth. “This wasn’t weather,” he mutters. “Look at the bend in that post.”
Tex crouches in the snow beside him, gloved fingers skimming the ground. “Tracks double back. Not animal. And this wire—cut, then staged.”
I scan the line of trees. Nothing but shadows, snow, and wind making the pines hiss like a warning.
“Tex,” I say quietly, “check the drone feed again.”
“I’m trying.” He taps his controller. The monitor stays black. “Damn it. Drone Three’s offline. Could’ve gone down in the storm.”
Tank snorts. “Or someone shot it.”
My jaw tightens. “We don’t know that.”
We all know that.
Henry steps up beside me, breath harsh and white in the icy air. “Fence is bait,” he says. “Someone wanted us out here.”
The world narrows behind my ribs.
Henry shakes his head. “We’re missing someth—”
Movement slashes through the snow.
A small figure breaks from the tree line, running full tilt—stumbling, sliding, gasping. The moment my brain recognizes her, my blood runs cold.
“Shay!” Henry shouts, sprinting toward her.
She practically falls into his arms, grabbing his coat, shaking so hard her teeth chatter. Her face is white, her eyes wild.
“Henry… Henry—” She’s barely forming words. “Sadie—he took Sadie.”
My heart stops.
“What?” Henry cups her face, steadying her. “Slow down. Is Max safe?”
Shay’s nod is fast, frantic. “He’s with Ben… he’s okay. Iran straight here. Wyatt, he has her. He has Sadie.”
Fuck.
The ground drops out from under me. My lungs seize as if they’re trying to remember how to work.
“Christ!” Tank’s face is pale. “We’ve been so focused on protecting Sadie, we didn’t see this coming.”
“They used Shay,” Henry growls. “To draw Sadie out.”
Realization hits like a sucker punch. I’m already reaching for my phone, pulling it free…
No bars. No signal. A blank screen where my world should be.
I promised her. I swore to her. I said she was safe.
And I let her out of my sight.
Just like before.
My sister’s face flashes in my mind—not the way she died, but the soft, stubborn smile she wore the afternoon before I shipped out. The one I failed to protect.
Not again.
Not her.
Not Sadie.
Tank grabs my arm. “Wyatt. Breathe.”
I drag in air like it hurts. “I should’ve stayed. I should’ve… fuck!”
Tex plants a hand between my shoulder blades, steady pressure. “No. This isn’t on you.”
But it is.
She trusted me. Walked into my cabin wearing my damn flannel. Looked at me like she finally had a future again. And I let myself believe we had time.
No time. No margin. No excuses.
I clench my fists until my bones ache.
“I’m getting her back.” My voice is low and lethal. “I don’t care who I have to go through.” I look at Shay. “What did he look like?”
Shay scrubs at her face, breath still shaking. “Tall, beard, scar near his right eye. He had a gun… He tricked me. Took my phone. S-sent the message to Sadie.” She squeezes her eyes shut. “She made him let me go so she wouldn’t—so she—”
Henry pulls her tight, hand cupping the back of her head. “You’re safe,” he murmurs. “You did good, sweetheart. You did everything right.”
Shay sobs into his coat.
Henry’s voice drops, cold and dangerous. “They used the woman I love to get to Sadie.”
His jaw flexes. “They’re going to pay for that.”
He meets my eyes over her shoulder, his gaze like steel. “We’ll get her back.” He lifts Shay into his arms. “I’m taking her home. She needs Max. And warmth.”
Tex wipes his mouth with his glove. “We regroup at the house. Plan the counterstrike.”
Tank cracks his knuckles. “I want that bastard’s teeth.”
I’m halfway to the truck when my phone vibrates.
A single bar of reception blinks on.
A text pings through.
Shay’s number.
He still has her phone.
My pulse spikes as I open it.
A pin drops onto the map app—coordinates.
And one line beneath it:
Come and get your girl.
We move on the cabin with quiet precision—no signals needed. We’ve done this a hundred times in other lives. Different terrain, different stakes. Same instincts.
Tex peels off east, eyes sweeping the tree line as he circles wide.
Tank flanks west, his boots nearly silent in the snow, checking for tracks, movement, threats.
Henry falls in behind me, covering the rear.
We don’t speak. We don’t have to.
This is muscle memory.
Formation without instruction.
Trust without hesitation.
I go straight up the center, watching windows, gauging angles, every breath measured, every step calculated.
But my heart hasn’t stopped doing that painful, uneven thing since Shay reached us. Since she sobbed Sadie’s name into Henry’s jacket. Since I found her note sitting on my damn kitchen table—a punch to the gut that hasn’t eased since.
I won’t lose her. Won’t lose someone I love. Not again.
The coordinates were dead-on. Whoever sent that text knew exactly where she was.
Which means one of two things.
Either someone on the inside is helping her…
Or we’re walking straight into a trap.
Doesn’t matter.
If this is a setup, they picked the wrong woman to use as bait. Because I’m not leaving without her.
Not now. Not ever.
I adjust my grip on the rifle.
She’s in there. I can feel it.
And if anyone touches her—
God help them.
Tank signals. Three fingers… two… one…
Henry kicks the door.
I take in the scene. Three bodies already down. Another man—matching Shay’s description of Harry—bleeding but conscious.
He grimaces as he raises his hands. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”
Then I see her.
Sadie.
Holding a gun.
Her eyes are wide and glassy, locked on a tall blonde woman like she’s deciding whether to end her or collapse.
Clarissa.
My lungs stop working.
I take a step forward just as movement flickers at the edge of my vision.
One of the downed men rolls to his side, fingers curling around his gun.
“Sadie!”
She flinches, but I’m already moving, throwing myself between her and the gunman just as the shot cracks through the cabin.
The impact never comes.
A second shot answers the first—clean, fast, final.
I twist, heart pounding, just in time to see Henry lower his weapon, jaw clenched.
The henchman slumps. Doesn’t move again.
Silence falls.
Only the storm and my heartbeat remain.
The others fan out, Tank to my right, Tex to my left, Henry moving toward Clarissa.
“Sadie! Talk to me! Are you hit?” My voice is rough, strained, frantic.
Sadie is still holding the gun, her knuckles white, her eyes distant.
“Sadie…”
She flinches. The gun jerks a fraction.
“Hey… hey,” I say, keeping my voice low, coaxing her back from the edge. “It’s me, Dove. It’s over.”
She doesn’t blink. Her pupils are blown wide, her breathing ragged. She’s still in fight-or-flight, adrenaline drowning her.
“Sadie,” I say again, softer this time. “Eyes on me. You’re okay. You’re not alone.”
Her gaze snaps to me.
“Wyatt,” she whispers. “S-she was going to take me and…and—”
“I know.” My throat burns. “I’m sorry, I should’ve—you’re safe now. I’m here.”
“She killed my dad. She hunted me. She was going to…” Her eyes drop. Her hands shake harder.
Seeing her pain and fear guts me.
“Sadie, look at me.”
She lifts her eyes, and something tears inside me.
“I am so fucking proud of you,” I tell her, voice cracking. “You fought. You survived. You faced her, and you didn’t break.”
A sob leaves her chest like a punch.
I gently pry the gun from her fingers. “No more,” I murmur. “You don’t carry this alone.”
She sags into me as I pull her against my chest.
“Wyatt,” she whispers against my throat, trembling now that it’s over. “I thought—”
“I know,” I say roughly. “Me too.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again and again. “I shouldn’t have left the cabin. I didn’t know. I thought it was Shay… Wyatt, I’m sorry. Is Shay okay? Are you okay? I walked right into their trap—”
“Sadie.” I cup her face, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Breathe.”
She drags in a shaking breath.
And I hold her, anchoring her, bringing her back into her body. Reminding her she’s alive. Here. With me.
“How did you find me?” she asks.
A rough groan comes from the corner. “That’d be me.”
Sadie startles. “Harry?”
He’s still bleeding, one arm clamped to his shoulder as he pushes upright with a grimace. “Federal Agent Hawk, technically.”
“Son of a bitch,” Tex mutters.
“Should’ve known,” Tank grunts.
I stare. “You’re FBI? You sent the coordinates?”
He nods, pale but steady. “Undercover for eighteen months, building a case against Clarissa. The FBI needed her to access the account and move the money so we could trace the shell corporations before we could take her down.”
Sadie’s voice trembles. “The anonymous texts the night my dad died… that was you?”
He nods. “Saved your life. Barely.”
Rage flares behind my ribs. “You put her in danger. You let her get dragged into this. Were you the one who shot her?”
“No! That was one of Clarissa’s men. She wanted to scare Sadie. I didn’t know she’d sent someone after her until it was too late.” His jaw clenches. “If I’d stepped in early, Clarissa would’ve vanished. You’d never have been safe.”
Henry and I lunge at him at the same time—because he jeopardized the lives of the women we love.
Tank steps in fast, grabbing Henry.
Sadie grabs me.
“Wyatt,” she says softly. Firmly. “This is how it had to happen.”
I still, breathing heavily.
“If one thing had gone differently,” she whispers, “I wouldn’t have gone to that auction. I wouldn’t have ended up at Havenridge. I wouldn’t have met you.”
God.
Her voice trembles. “The universe didn’t save me from everything. It led me to where I was meant to be.”
My chest crumples, and I tighten my hold on her.
The door creaks open behind us.
We instantly snap into motion, weapons raised, muscles coiled.
Two men enter, badges out.
“Federal agents!” one calls quickly. “We’re backup.”
Too late to matter.
The tension lingers for a beat longer, then slowly bleeds away as everyone lowers their weapons.
Harry clears his throat. “Uh… I’ll need statements—”
I glare at him.
“—later,” he finishes quickly.
Tex snorts. “Good call, genius.”
Harry groans, clutching his shoulder.
One of the agents moves fast, crouching to assess him. “Let’s get you out of here before you bleed on the intel,” he mutters, helping him up with practiced efficiency.
Henry, Tex, and Tank follow them out.
Clarissa’s icy gaze lands on Sadie as the other agent cuffs her. “You really think this place will keep you safe?”
Sadie meets her eyes unflinchingly. “No. I will.”
For a second, something flickers across Clarissa’s face. It’s not fear or anger. It’s something colder. Sharper.
Grudging respect.
Because despite all her poison, Clarissa knows what it takes to survive.
And now, so does Sadie.
Clarissa doesn’t look back as the agent takes her away.
The room falls quiet again, leaving only Sadie and me and the smoldering remnants of terror.
I pull her against me, burying my face in her hair. She clings back, arms around my waist.
“I love you,” I say, my voice hoarse. “God, Sadie. I love you.”
She trembles, whispering into my chest, “I love you, Wyatt. I think I did from the moment you raised that paddle.”
A broken laugh escapes me. “You mean when I bought you?”
She thumps my chest. “When you chose me.”
FBI boots crunch outside. Snow whips against the windows.
But inside our little world, everything is finally, beautifully still.