Chapter 114 Harper
Harper
The forest looked different now. Every shifting shadow between the trees, every whisper of wind through the branches—it all carried weight. Threat.
River’s hand lifted, signaling silence, and the team froze as one. I copied them, my body taut, breath shallow, though my heart hammered loud enough I was sure it would give us away.
Carter stood a step ahead of me, his rifle steady, his back broad and solid. Just seeing him there should’ve made me feel safe. But this wasn’t safety. This was standing at the edge of something that could break us both.
Movement flickered in the fog—figures slipping between the trees, too coordinated to be anything but Redwood. My stomach dropped, icy fear clawing up my throat.
I wanted to run. God, every instinct screamed at me to turn and bolt for the cabin. But then Carter’s voice brushed against my memory: Together.
My knees trembled, but I tightened my fists, forcing myself still. If he could stand there, unflinching, then so could I.
The first shot cracked the silence. Bark splintered from the tree beside me, sharp shards stinging my arm. I gasped, ducking low on instinct. Carter’s hand shot back, catching mine, squeezing once. Firm. Steady.
Stay with me. The message was clear, even without words.
So I did.
I pressed close, my shoulder brushing his, my breath shallow as bullets tore through the trees. The team returned fire, the air exploding with thunder and smoke. I flinched with every crack of the rifles, but I didn’t break.
I stayed.
Because fear or not, trembling or not, Carter needed to know he wasn’t fighting alone.
And Redwood needed to know I wasn’t theirs to take.