Chapter Three
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With the adrenaline slamming through her, Delaney followed Eli back through the hall, boots silent on the hardwood as they returned to where Ty lay unconscious.
His breathing was shallow but steady, and the blood had slowed under the pressure bandage Eli had wrapped before they cleared the rest of the house.
She crouched beside Ty, checking his pulse again just to keep her hands busy, just to ground herself. Her mind kept flashing to the text message still glowing in the bedroom.
He found me.
The words repeated in her head while her heart was thudding hard in her chest. He. Not they. One person. Someone Olivia had been running from.
Was it Dr. Cyrus Hale? The man who built the Hale Institute into a so-called recovery empire, who profited from the trauma of the vulnerable? Or was it someone else? Someone more personal. Someone Olivia knew would come for her.
Delaney squeezed her eyes shut a moment and groaned. They were too late. Again. Just like with Jordan.
No. Not this time.
She stood abruptly, breath shallow, about to call for Eli when something flickered at the edge of her vision. Delaney jerked her head toward the window across the kitchen. Through the glass, between the trees, a shadow moved. Not wind. Not an animal.
A man. Stumbling.
“Outside. Someone’s there,” she told Eli.
Eli was already moving. They burst out the back door and cut across the gravel toward the woods, rifles raised, steps fast but controlled.
Fifty yards in, they found him.
The second Crossfire Ops guard was slumped against a tree, blood trailing down the side of his face, one hand pressed to a gash near his temple. His other hand clutched the stock of his weapon, though it dangled uselessly at his side.
Delaney dropped beside him. “You’re Jackson, right? Jackson Ward?”
He blinked up at her, dazed. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m here.”
Eli knelt on the other side. “Talk to us. What happened?”
Jackson coughed once, eyes squinting in pain. “Gas canisters through the windows. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. Ty tried to move Olivia to the hall. I took the back, but then someone got behind me. Smashed something into my head.”
Delaney’s chest clenched. “How many?”
“Three. All wearing ski masks. They were fast, knew the layout. One of them shot Ty. The others grabbed Olivia. Hauled her out the back. Into the trees.”
Eli stood, eyes scanning the tree line as he spoke. “Stay with Ty. Help the EMTs when they get here. We’re going after her.”
Jackson nodded, trying to push himself upright, but his body gave out. “Go,” he rasped. “They weren’t far ahead. You can still catch them.”
Delaney looked at Eli. He was already moving, rifle up, boots cutting a path through the brush.
She took one last glance at Jackson, then ran after him, heart pounding. The fog was lifting, and the woods ahead were starting to glow with early morning light.
They had a lead.
And they were not letting Olivia disappear without a fight.
Delaney followed Eli into the trees, the chill of the morning air sharper here in the shade. The woods were dense, thick with cedar and scrub, the rising sun casting fractured light through the branches. Their boots moved silently over the uneven ground, past twisted roots and crushed brush.
The trail wasn’t hard to spot. Branches bent back. Leaves torn. Patches of damp earth stamped down with deep, urgent footprints.
Whoever had taken Olivia had moved fast. And not carefully.
Delaney’s pulse pounded in her ears, but she kept her weapon steady, eyes scanning every shift in shadow, every broken limb. Her breath came fast but controlled, sharp in the back of her throat.
Eli moved just ahead of her, steps sure and efficient. She watched the way he navigated the trail, how his gaze constantly scanned left and right without ever slowing down. He was in full operator mode now, and that steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
They pushed deeper into the woods, following the trampled path as it twisted downhill. A sharp scent of disturbed soil and something faintly chemical clung to the air. Maybe residue from the tear gas canisters.
For a long stretch, there was nothing. No sound. No voices. Not even birds.
Just the rasp of their breathing and the crunch of old leaves beneath their boots.
Delaney was starting to wonder if they were already too far behind when she heard it.
Movement. Ahead. Quick and sharp. A snap of twigs.
She froze.
Eli stopped too, one hand lifted in a silent signal.
They listened. Another sound. A soft shuffle. A grunt. Then silence again.
Delaney inched forward, breath held, every nerve in her body taut. The trees ahead thinned just enough to show movement. A figure slipped between the trunks, fast and low.
She caught a flash of black clothing, the glint of a rifle barrel. Then he turned.
Gun raised.
“Down!” Eli shouted.
The first shot cracked through the woods. Bark exploded from a tree inches from Delaney’s head as she dropped low, her heart slamming against her ribs.
Another shot. Then another.
She hit the ground and rolled behind a fallen log, gripping her weapon tight, trying to steady her hands. The echo of gunfire rang through the woods, scattering birds into the air above.
Eli had taken cover behind a rock outcropping to her right, already returning fire in short, controlled bursts.
Delaney moved on instinct, crawling low to a better position behind a thick cedar. She peered around the trunk, caught another glimpse of the man in black moving to the left, flanking.
He was good. Fast. Tactical.
But not invisible.
She raised her weapon, squeezed off two rounds. He ducked. Moved again.
More gunfire. A sharp zing of a bullet clipped through a branch near her shoulder.
“Right flank,” Eli called. “He’s circling.”
Delaney moved. Quick and low. She pushed between two thick bushes and came out behind a cluster of rocks. Her boots skidded over loose dirt, but she caught herself, weapon still steady.
The man was cutting across the ridge now, trying to outdistance them. Not happening. Delaney took aim and fired. Missed, but close.
He turned, raised his rifle again, and sent another volley of bullets through the trees. One snapped past her cheek. The air seemed to burn as it passed.
She dropped to her knee behind a tree, breath ragged.
“We have to cut him off,” she said.
Eli’s voice came through the trees. “Push him east. Toward the creek.”
Delaney nodded even though he couldn’t see her. She moved again, fast, weaving through the brush. The gunman was fast too, but he wasn’t disappearing.
He was leading them somewhere.
And that was starting to worry her more than the bullets.
Delaney pushed through a thicket of underbrush, heart hammering, sweat prickling under her vest despite the morning chill. The gunman was still ahead, just out of reach, darting between the trees like he knew the terrain. She kept low, focused, watching for his next move.
Ahead, Eli shifted position and took a sharp angle toward the east.
The gunman turned to fire again, but this time he hesitated. It was only a split second, but it was enough.
Eli fired once.
And the man dropped.
Delaney moved in fast, weapon raised, scanning the woods beyond as she reached the body. The man lay crumpled near a tree, his rifle kicked aside, blood already soaking the front of his shirt.
Dead.
She didn’t speak. Just exchanged a quick glance with Eli. Then she heard it. Movement. Footsteps. Stumbling. Brushing through low branches just out of view.
Her hand tightened on her weapon.
Then a voice called out, weak and urgent. “Help me, please.”
Delaney’s breath caught. The voice was ragged, hoarse. But it was a woman.
Eli glanced her way. “Olivia?”
Delaney nodded. “I think so.”
Without waiting for more, they took off, dodging through trees, ducking under limbs, following the voice.
They were close now. The woods opened slightly ahead, and Delaney could see a flash of movement through the brush.
She hoped to God it was Olivia. And that she was still alive when they got to her.
Delaney pushed through the last stretch of brush, lungs burning, her boots crunching over the dry ground. Eli was just ahead, rifle raised, eyes sharp. The trail narrowed into a dip between two rises, and that’s where they saw her.
Olivia Camden.
Delaney recognized her immediately. Same face from the photo Noah had shown them. Long, dark hair pulled back in a messy braid. Slight frame. Scraped knees. Her sweatshirt was torn, one sleeve hanging off her shoulder.
She was fighting.
Hard.
Twisting in the grip of one man while another flanked her, barking orders she couldn’t make out. Her mouth was open, screaming or maybe cursing, her legs kicking as she tried to get free.
The two men had their backs to Delaney and Eli. They didn’t know they were being watched.
And they were close.
Only yards from a black SUV idling on a narrow dirt trail that cut through the woods. One of the rear doors was open. They were seconds away from stuffing her inside and disappearing.
Delaney dropped to one knee behind a wide cedar trunk, heart thundering in her chest.
The men weren’t trying to kill Olivia. That much was clear now. They were dragging her toward the SUV, one hauling her by the arm, the other checking over his shoulder like he expected backup.
This wasn’t a hit.
It was a kidnapping.
She looked to Eli, who’d already sighted his weapon. “They’re trying to take her alive,” Delaney whispered, keeping her voice low.
Eli didn’t take his eyes off the targets. “Can you hit the one on the right? Back of his knee to bring him down.
Delaney exhaled slowly. Nodded once. She adjusted her stance, steadied her grip, and squeezed the trigger.
And the shot cracked through the air.
The man on the right dropped instantly, screaming in pain, clutching his leg. Olivia staggered, nearly falling as he released her. The other man spun toward the sound, raising his weapon.
Eli fired before he could aim.
The man jerked backward and hit the ground hard, his body motionless.
Delaney refocused fast. The injured man, still screaming, rolled over and lifted his gun. His face twisted with fury.
“Olivia, get down!” Delaney shouted.
She did as she was told and dropped, and Delaney fired. The bullet slammed into the man’s chest. He jerked once, then went still.
Silence closed in, broken only by Olivia’s ragged sobs and the cooling tick of the SUV engine a few yards away.
Delaney stood and ran.
She reached Olivia in seconds, dropping to her knees as the girl collapsed into her arms. She was shaking, barefoot, clothes torn, and blood smeared along her temple.
“I’ve got you,” Delaney said, her voice hoarse. “You’re safe now.”
Eli moved in beside them, keeping his weapon up, scanning the trail for more threats.
Delaney held Olivia tighter. They weren’t too late.
Not this time.
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