Chapter Four
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The hospital was the kind you’d expect in a town the size of Crossfire Creek.
It was modest, clean, with pale yellow walls and chairs that creaked when you shifted your weight.
The waiting room smelled faintly of antiseptic and over-brewed coffee.
A vending machine buzzed in the corner, and a muted television played morning news no one was watching.
Eli stood at the window, arms crossed, watching as a nurse wheeled someone down the hall. The chaos from earlier still echoed in his head, but here, in the lull of fluorescent lights and distant footsteps, the weight of what had happened was beginning to settle.
Delaney sat a few chairs away, hunched slightly forward, her hands clasped between her knees.
She hadn’t said much since the paramedics had taken Olivia through those double doors.
Ty and Jackson were somewhere deeper inside the ER, both still breathing, but Ty’s condition was critical.
Jackson had been alert when they brought him in, swearing he was fine, but Eli knew the look of a man riding adrenaline and stubborn pride.
Noah was en route, and once he arrived, there’d be another flurry of activity.
Thankfully, none that involved gunfire and shit.
But there’d need to be updates. Debriefs.
Questions answered that couldn’t wait for a written report.
And Noah would want to see Olivia with his own eyes, to know the girl they had risked everything to save was still alive. Still whole.
More than that though, he’d need to see his team. That wasn’t something Noah would leave to phone calls or status updates. He’d want boots on the ground. Face to face.
Eli didn’t blame him.
Crossfire Ops wasn’t just a team. It was built from scar tissue and second chances. If one of them went down, they didn’t brush it off. They showed up.
And today, they had bled for this mission. Noah would want to know what the hell went wrong… and how close they’d come to losing it all.
On a long sigh, Eli turned from the window and sat next to Delaney. She didn’t look at him. Just stared straight ahead, lips pressed into a tight line. Her fingers moved, snapping a rubber band around her wrist with quiet, steady repetition.
“You handled yourself well today,” Eli said, his voice low. “First op’s never easy. That was solid work.”
She gave a small nod but didn’t look up. Her hand snapped the band again.
“It’s not because of the shooting today,” she explained after a pause. “It’s the flashbacks.”
He waited, letting the silence hold space between them.
“It’s not easy,” she went on, voice quiet, almost distant. “Killing a man. Even when he deserves it.”
Eli didn’t argue. Because she was right. And because she wasn’t asking for comfort. Just release. Still, he reached over and rested his hand on the arm of her chair. Not touching, just close. A quiet offer.
“We’re not built to walk away from things like this without carrying some of it,” he said. He knew because he had killed two men today.
Her fingers stilled. Then she looked at him. Really looked. And for a flicker of a second, the weight in her eyes eased. Just a little.
It hit him harder than he expected. That flicker. That damn softening. Something cracked open in his chest before he could brace for it. Just a glance, just a breath of vulnerability, and it pulled at him like a current he didn’t want to acknowledge.
Eli swore silently and looked away, jaw tightening.
Not the time. Not the place. And definitely not the woman.
Delaney was his partner. She had a sharp mind, a dead-eye shot, and a storm of trauma still chasing her shadow. The last thing either of them needed was distraction. Especially the kind that came with a hell of a lot more risk than reward.
He shoved the pull down deep, buried it under instinct and duty. Where it belonged.
They had a job to do. A team to report to. A girl to protect.
And no room for anything else.
His attention shifted when he heard the footsteps echo down the hall. Eli rose automatically, Delaney just behind him, both of them instinctively shifting into alert posture.
But it wasn’t Noah. Or the medical staff.
A tall woman in a cream-colored blazer and dark jeans rushed into the waiting room, her heels clicking sharply on the tile. Her hair was a sleek, controlled curtain of chestnut waves, but the panic in her eyes made it clear control had been abandoned the second she got the call.
Vivian Camden.
Behind her came a man in his forties, trim and clean-shaven, with a hard line to his jaw and a watch that probably cost more than Eli’s truck. He moved with the same tension Vivian radiated, though his grip on her elbow was steadying, not urgent.
“This is my fiancé, Grant Maddox,” Vivian said breathlessly, barely glancing at Delaney or Eli as her eyes swept the room. “Where’s Olivia? Where is she?”
Eli stepped forward. “She’s in the exam room. Banged up, but alive.”
Vivian’s knees buckled, and she dropped into the nearest chair like someone had cut her strings. She covered her face with both hands, shoulders shaking with a quiet exhale that sounded too close to a sob.
“Thank God,” she whispered.
Grant stayed standing. “We stayed away from the safe house like we were told. We were told it would put her at risk if we got too close. And now I want to know what the hell happened.”
Eli met his stare without flinching. “We’re working on that. The team was already in the field when the attack happened. We responded fast. Got Olivia out.”
Grant didn’t look satisfied, but he nodded once, his jaw still clenched.
Vivian looked up at Eli, eyes rimmed in red. “Can I see her?”
“Soon as the doctor clears it,” Eli let her know and then added, “She’s in good hands.”
Delaney remained silent beside him, watchful. Eli could feel it in his gut. The chaos wasn’t over. And neither were the questions.
There was the sound of more footsteps, and several moments later, Noah stepped inside, tall and broad, his gait steady despite the slight hitch from the prosthetic. He wore jeans and a dark field jacket, his face set with the calm control of a man used to walking into crisis.
Vivian stood quickly, brushing her hands down the front of her blazer. “You must be Mr. Riggs.”
“Noah,” he offered, nodding once. “You’re Olivia’s mother.”
“Yes. Vivian Camden. And this is my fiancé, Grant Maddox.”
Grant extended a hand, though his grip was stiff with tension. “We were told the safe house was secure. So how did this happen? How did those men get in?”
Noah’s expression didn’t change. “We are looking into that. The breach was unexpected, and we will find out how they got access.”
Grant narrowed his eyes. “Unexpected or not, it shouldn’t have happened. Olivia was nearly taken and this happening on top of the ordeal she’s already been through because of her grandfather.”
Vivian placed a hand on Grant’s arm. “Enough. Please.” Her voice cracked slightly. She looked at Noah, eyes red with worry. “What about Ava? Any news about her?”
Noah gave a quiet nod. “She’s still at the Hale Institute. I know you haven’t spoken to her since your father placed both girls there.”
Vivian’s lips trembled. “I’ve called. Over and over. The main line, the staff numbers, everything. No one answers. The gate’s locked, and the sheriff in the area said they haven’t been able to get a judge to sign off on a warrant.”
“We’re aware,” Noah said. “We’re working on it.”
Vivian collapsed back into her chair, her strength giving out. “I just want to know she’s safe.”
“I hope to have that information for you very soon.” Noah turned to Eli and Delaney. “I need a word. Step into the hall with me.”
Eli nodded and followed. Delaney was already moving beside him, silent and focused.
The hallway was quiet, just the distant murmur of nurses and the steady beep of machines behind closed doors. Eli leaned against the wall as Noah turned to face them, his sharp gaze flicking between the two of them.
“Have either of you spoken to Olivia yet?” Noah asked.
Eli shook his head. “No. She was in bad shape when we pulled her out. Shock, dehydration, bruises. She barely said anything in the ambulance.”
Delaney added, “She clung to me the whole ride but didn’t say a word. The EMT said she needed fluids and rest before anyone tried questioning her.”
Noah gave a tight nod, lips pressed together.
“That tracks. Let her rest for now. We’ll talk to her when the doctors clear it.
In the meantime, I’m turning over everything we have to the feds and the Texas Rangers.
The locals, too, so they can try to build a case against the institute.
Right now, it’ll be Olivia’s word against Hale’s and her grandfather’s, but something might turn up that can be used. ”
He glanced at the far end of the hallway, where a nurse stepped into a room and quietly closed the door behind her.
“Ty’s out of surgery,” Noah said. “They got the bullet out. No major organ damage. He’s stable and expected to make a full recovery.”
Relief loosened something in Eli’s chest.
“And Jackson?” Delaney asked.
“Concussion. Some bruised ribs. He’s going to be sore for a while, but he’s already complaining, so that’s a good sign.”
Eli almost smiled at that. Jackson didn’t take well to being sidelined. If he was mouthing off, he was on the mend.
Noah looked between them again, expression serious. “You both did good work out there. It could’ve gone sideways, but it didn’t.”
Eli met his gaze. “It almost did.”
“Almost doesn’t count,” Noah said. “What matters is that Olivia is still breathing.”
Eli nodded, but he didn’t feel the full weight of that victory yet. Something about this mission still sat wrong in his gut. Something about the Hale Institute. About how fast and quiet everything had gone dark on their end.
Eli straightened. Delaney’s eyes narrowed beside him.