Chapter 26 #2
My hands curled into fists.
“Twelve miles of cliff faces and river gorges, and she never stopped fighting. Broke Bishop’s nose when he caught up to her.” Oliver’s smile turned sharp. “Do you know how rare that is? A woman who doesn’t shatter? I so desperately want to see what it takes to make her shatter.”
“You stay the fuck away from her.”
“Oh, I intend to get very, very close.” He stepped toward me, pale eyes bright.
“I’ll have my hunt again. I deserve it. And this time, you won’t be around, so there won’t be any cheating.
No secret signals. No team waiting to extract her.
Just me and my little prey, alone in the dark, finishing what we started. ”
The world went red.
I moved. Didn’t care if my team was in position or not. I could still kill this motherfucker.
I drew my weapon in one fluid motion, bringing it up toward Oliver’s center mass.
He’d expected it. His men were already raising their rifles, fingers on triggers, ready to cut me down.
Then Oliver’s man closest to me dropped without a sound. No gunshot—tranq round.
Another went down near the east exit. Then two more by the north wall, crumpling like puppets with cut strings. Diesel and Tommy fell too.
I watched Oliver’s face.
The smugness cracked. His head whipped around, tracking the falling bodies, trying to process what was happening. For one perfect second, Julian Oliver—the man who orchestrated everything, who always held every card—realized he was the one in the trap.
Then his expression twisted into fury, and he started retreating toward the back of the warehouse, his remaining men scrambling to provide cover.
All hell broke loose.
The Warrior Security team had already eliminated half of Oliver’s advantage, but there were still a shit-ton of armed people around. Everyone ran everywhere. Buyers dove for cover. Their security teams drew weapons. Shouts echoed off concrete walls.
I fired twice, but he was already behind a stack of crates. I started after him.
“Coop! Down!”
Beckett’s voice. I dropped as a burst of automatic fire shredded the air where my head had been from some of Oliver’s men in the opposite corner. I rolled behind a concrete pillar, came up shooting.
Oliver’s men opened up with live rounds. The team answered with rubber bullets—incapacitating, not killing. My Glock only had live ammo. I holstered it when I could, used my hands instead.
One of Oliver’s guys charged my position. I grabbed the barrel of his rifle, yanked him off balance, drove my elbow into his temple. He crumpled. Another came around a crate on my left. I sidestepped his swing, drove my fist into his throat, felt cartilage give. He went down choking.
Beckett appeared at my six, covering my flank. He shoved a secondary weapon into my hands—Glock with an extended mag. “Rubber rounds.”
“Oliver’s heading for the back.”
“We’ll deal with Oliver later. Right now, we fight our way out.”
He was right. The warehouse had turned into a kill box—Oliver’s men regrouping, buyers’ security teams drawing weapons, too many variables to track. Getting out alive came first.
We moved as a unit, the way we’d trained for years. Beckett covering high while I took low. Advancing through the chaos with muscle memory guiding every step.
I caught movement at my three o’clock. I pivoted before thinking, years of training taking over. Two of Oliver’s men coming around a stack of crates. I took out their knees—harder shots, but rubber rounds to center mass didn’t always stop a man hopped up on adrenaline.
But a shot to the knee fucking did; rubber bullets still hurt like hell. They dropped, screaming. Not dead. Not getting back up anytime soon either.
Aiden materialized beside us, breathing hard but steady. “Buyers are scattering. Their security teams are panicking—shooting at anything that moves.”
“Where’s Oliver?”
“Back exit. Moving fast.”
I broke into a sprint. Through the maze of crates and bodies and screaming men.
A militia member stepped into my path, swinging a rifle butt at my head.
I ducked under it, drove my fist into his solar plexus.
He went down gasping. Another one grabbed my arm from behind.
I spun, trapped his wrist, hyperextended his elbow until something snapped.
His scream cut off when my knee found his face.
I reached the back exit, slammed through the door into harsh daylight.
An engine roared. Tires screamed against asphalt.
Oliver’s black SUV was already fifty yards away, accelerating down the access road.
“Fuck!”
My fist connected with the doorframe hard enough to split skin. Pain shot up my arm, but I barely felt it.
Gone. The bastard was gone.
A single federal SUV pulled into the lot—the handler team that had been staged nearby, monitoring from a distance. They’d been expecting a quiet check-in, not a warehouse full of bodies and bullet holes. They were already calling for backup.
The floor was chaos. Oliver’s men groaning on the ground, zip-tied with flex cuffs Aiden had produced. The B-list buyers fled, on foot, by vehicle, any way they could. Crates of weapons stood open, evidence nobody had planned to collect today.
I found Hunter near the east exit, his scarred hands checking his weapon with automatic precision. Beckett and Aiden flanked him.
“How did you know?” I asked. “How did you know I was burned?”
Hunter holstered his weapon. “Travis got a call a couple hours ago from Mia about a box of mementos being taken from her apartment. It was the only thing that was taken, so she put two and two together and got Oliver.”
“Where is she now?” Oliver’s creepy-ass words about his little prey kept buzzing through my head.
Before anyone could answer, everyone’s phones buzzed simultaneously. I didn’t have mine—couldn’t take a chance on bringing it undercover—but I watched Hunter, Beckett, and Aiden check their screens.
Their faces went pale.
“Nine-one-one,” Hunter said. “Travis.”
Beckett was already dialing. He put it on speaker, and Travis’s voice came through tight with barely controlled panic.
“Mia and Lark were driving back from Billings. Someone ran them off the road.”
The world tilted.
“Lark’s injured but conscious. Some cuts, sprained wrist. She called.” Travis’s voice cracked. “She saw a man pull Mia from the wreck. Big guy, dead eyes, military build. Based on her description—”
Bishop. There was no doubt in my mind.
“Where did he take her?” The words ripped out of me.
“I don’t know. Yet.”
Hours.
We’d been at Travis’s house for hours, and we were no closer to finding Mia.
I couldn’t stop moving. Pacing the conference room like a caged animal, wearing a path on the hardwood. The walls pressed in. The clock on the wall ticked too loudly, each second a hammer blow reminding me how much time was passing.
What was happening to her right now?
Mia had survived once. She’d run through dark woods, fought off men twice her size, escaped against impossible odds.
But that was with hope. That was when she thought help was coming.
Now?
Now, she was alone with monsters who knew exactly what she’d cost them.
My little prey that got away. Oliver’s voice echoed through my head. I so desperately want to see what it takes to make her shatter.
It took every bit of control I had not to put my fist through another wall.
Hunter was on the phone in the corner, voice low and urgent.
He was talking to Deputy Director Hartwell, explaining what had happened at the warehouse and why we’d left so suddenly.
She wanted to talk to me or Travis, but Travis was busy trying to save Mia’s life, and there was no way in fuck I was going to be able to get coherent sentences out right now.
She could talk to Hunter, or she could rot in hell. I honestly didn’t care which.
Travis worked at his wall of monitors without pause. Beckett cleaned his weapon at the table—third time in the past hour—and Aiden stood guard by the door like a statue carved from stone.
Nobody told me to sit down. Nobody told me to calm down.
They knew better.
“I had Bishop’s vehicle on traffic cams heading east,” Travis said, not looking up from his screens. “Lost him when he hit the rural roads. No coverage once you get past Bridger.”
“What about Oliver’s properties? His known locations?”
“All clear. I’ve got eyes on every one of them.”
“He has to have somewhere else.” I stopped pacing. Started again. “A backup location. Trav, it would be somewhere remote, similar to the compound.”
Travis didn’t stop typing as he glanced at me. “Why do you think that?”
“He was talking about hunting her again. Doesn’t like that his prey escaped last time.”
Stay alive, Kitten. Whatever it takes, just stay alive.
“Wait.” Travis’s fingers stopped moving.
We all turned.
“The USB.” He started typing again, faster now. “The data you pulled from Oliver’s compound. I went through it looking for buyer information, but there was other stuff on there too. Financial records I didn’t flag as priority.”
He pulled up a new window. Spreadsheets filled the screen.
“There.” His voice went tight. “A shell corporation based out of Delaware. Owns a single asset—an abandoned copper mine about forty miles east of here. Nothing else around it for miles.” He clicked a few more times.
“Hasn’t had any action for years. Until today.” Travis grabbed an energy drink and sucked down a gulp. “Utility records show power was activated six hours ago.”
An abandoned mine.
Isolated.
“That’s where he’s taking her.” I was already moving toward the door. “It’s perfect for a hunt. That’s exactly what he wants.”
Hunter was off the phone. He didn’t argue. Didn’t ask me to wait for more details that would confirm the location.
Waiting for those details might cost Mia her life.
“Gear up,” Hunter said. “Full tactical load. You want to bring the feds in on this?”
I ran through it fast. More manpower, legal authority, backup if things went sideways. But mobilizing a federal team would take hours we didn’t have.
Beckett shook his head. “I wouldn’t. They’ll want warrants, tactical plans, a full briefing. By the time they’re ready to move—”
“Mia’s dead.” I couldn’t say it any other way. “No feds. Just us.”
Hunter didn’t argue. “We leave in five.”
The next few minutes were controlled chaos. Weapons checked and loaded. Tactical vests strapped tight. Communication gear tested. Travis sent electronic maps of the mine’s layout—old, probably outdated, but better than nothing—that we could study on the way.
I moved through the motions with mechanical precision. Loading magazines. Checking sights. Securing my knife.
My hands were steady. Years of training had taught them to stay steady even when everything inside me was screaming.
“Coop.”
Beckett’s voice cut through. I looked up.
“We’ll get her back. Just like you helped me get Audra back.”
That was different. We both knew it. I didn’t answer. Couldn’t.
We loaded into the vehicles—two SUVs, blacked-out, armored. Travis promised to keep us updated on any info that came in. I climbed into the lead vehicle, checked my weapon one more time, and stared out the window.
The Montana mountains stretched ahead of us. Their beauty was lost on me today.
Mia was out there. With a fucking monster.