Chapter 113 Carter
Carter
River’s words snapped through me like a live wire. Movement on the east approach.
In an instant, the fragile quiet of the cabin was gone. My rifle was in my hands, my body moving before my mind caught up. Years of training, instinct. Get eyes on. Secure the perimeter. Neutralize the threat.
But behind me, I heard Harper’s footsteps. Light. Close. Following.
Every nerve in me screamed to turn around, to order her to stay put, to lock the door and keep her safe inside. But the memory of her voice—I’m with you. In this. All of it—stopped me cold.
She wasn’t just following. She was choosing.
I glanced over my shoulder as we stepped into the sharp morning air. Her chin was lifted, eyes steady, blanket tossed aside. She looked scared—I’d have been a fool to think otherwise—but she wasn’t wavering.
The kind of courage it took to stand there, to stand with me, humbled me more than any battlefield ever had.
“Stay close,” I said, low and firm, meeting her gaze. “And if I say down, you hit the ground. No questions.”
Her nod was sharp, quick. Not defiance—trust.
River was already at the treeline, his rifle leveled. Cyclone, bandaged arm and all, flanked left, Gideon covering the right. The team’s formation was tight, controlled, but my focus was split—half on the shadows shifting in the east, half on Harper at my back.
Movement flickered between the trees. Too many shapes to be hikers. Too fast to be anything but trouble.
Redwood.
I drew a steadying breath, my finger tightening on the trigger.
This was it—the war pushing to our doorstep.
And for the first time, I wasn’t just fighting with Harper in my heart.
She was here, at my side.
And I’d kill every last man in those trees before I let them take her from me.