Chapter Thirty One
Springing the Trap
Jameson Bishop
The ridge is quiet in that way the woods get before something breaks it. A held breath. A tightening. A warning.
Rachel stands beside me, wrapped in my jacket, eyes sharp despite the exhaustion. The trap is set. The choke point is ready. The cave behind us is warm enough to keep her alive. We’ve done everything we can.
Now we wait.
And waiting is the hardest part.
I scan the tree line below, every sense tuned, every instinct awake. I can feel them coming before I hear them. Predators always announce themselves in the woods; they think they own the silence.
Beth’s voice cuts through the trees first. High. Sharp. Angry.
David follows. His tone is lower, colder, controlled in a way that makes my skin crawl. He’s not panicking. He’s not guessing. He’s tracking.
They’re close.
Rachel stiffens beside me. “They found the trail.”
“They were always going to,” I say. “But they’re hours behind. We’re ready.”
She nods, but I see the fear flicker in her eyes. Not fear of dying. Fear of what they’ve already done. Fear of what they’ll do if they reach us.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “They’re not getting to you.”
She swallows hard. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
Because I’ve seen men like David before. I’ve hunted men like David before. And I’ve buried men like David before.
Movement flashes below, shadows weaving between trees. Beth’s voice rises again, furious and shrill.
“THEY WENT UP! I KNOW THEY DID!”
David’s reply is quieter. “Slow down. They’re watching.”
He’s not wrong.
They reach the base of the ridge, scanning the slope, searching for the easiest path up. But the trap forces them toward the narrow funnel. Exactly where I want them.
Rachel whispers, “They’re coming straight into it.”
“Good.”
Beth climbs first, slipping on loose rock, cursing under her breath. David follows, slower, more deliberate. His eyes track the terrain with unsettling precision.
He’s smart. Smarter than Beth. Smarter than Shaw.
But not smarter than me.
Rachel shifts beside me, tension rolling off her. “Bishop… what if-”
“Don’t finish that,” I say. “It’s going to work.”
Below us, Beth reaches the choke point and freezes.
“What the hell?” she mutters, staring at the brush we placed, the rocks we shifted, the path we forced her into.
David steps beside her, eyes narrowing. “They rigged it.”
Beth spins, panic rising. “They’re watching us.”
David’s voice drops. “Of course they are.”
Rachel’s breath catches. “They know.”
“They think they do,” I say.
David looks up the ridge, directly toward where we’re hidden. His gaze is sharp. Calculating. He’s trying to see through the brush, through the rocks, through the terrain.
He can’t.
But he knows we’re here.
Beth clutches her gun tighter. “We should go back. We should-”
“No,” David says. “We finish this now. They aren’t leaving these woods alive.”
Rachel flinches at the words. I feel her fear like a pulse against my ribs.
I lean close, my voice barely a whisper. “They’re walking into our hands.”
She nods, swallowing hard.
Beth takes another step and David follows.
The trap is ready. The ridge is ours.
And when they reach the top, this ends.
Beth reaches the choke point first, slipping on loose shale, cursing under her breath. David is right behind her; slower, deliberate, eyes scanning the terrain like he’s trying to see through the rocks themselves.
They’re exactly where I want them.
Rachel stays low behind the cedar trunk, her breathing steady now, her body warmed enough to move fast if she needs to. She watches them with a tension that vibrates through her muscles, but she doesn’t make a sound.
She trusts the plan.
Beth takes another step up the narrow funnel, and the ridge answers.
A cascade of rocks; small and sharp, breaks loose from the pile I set earlier. They tumble down the slope, clattering, bouncing, slicing through brush.
Beth screams, throwing her arms up as the debris slams into her legs and chest.
She loses her footing. Falling hard, she slides several feet before catching herself on a root.
David lunges to grab her, but the second part of the trap triggers; branches I wedged into the rock face snap free, swinging down like a natural barrier. He ducks, barely avoiding a blow to the head.
Rachel’s eyes widen. “It’s working.”
“It’s supposed to,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Stay ready.”
Beth scrambles upright, furious. “THEY SET THIS! THEY SET THIS FOR US!”
David’s voice is cold. “Of course they did. I very much doubt the bears did.” He snarls at her.
He tries to climb again, but the funnel forces him into the narrowest part of the ridge, exactly where the footing is worst. Exactly where the rocks are loose. Exactly where I want him.
He steps and the ground shifts beneath him.
Stumbling and sliding sideways, he grabs at the rock wall to keep from falling. His gun slips from his hand, skittering down the slope.
Rachel inhales sharply. “He dropped it.”
“It’s not enough,” I say. “He’s still dangerous.”
Beth claws her way up beside him, panting, shaking, her face streaked with dirt. “We should go back. We should-”
“No,” David snaps. “We can’t let them make it out.”
He looks up the ridge again, eyes narrowing, searching for us.
He takes another step, and the final part of the trap springs.
A larger rock, one I balanced carefully on a ledge, shifts, tips, and crashes down the slope. It doesn’t hit them directly, but it slams into the ground beside them, exploding into shards, sending dust and debris into their faces.
Beth screams again, stumbling backward. David grabs her arm, yanking her upright, but he’s off balance now, his footing compromised, his approach slowed.
Rachel whispers, “They’re stuck.”
“For now,” I say. “But they’ll push through. They always do.”
She looks at me, fear and determination mixing in her eyes. “What do we do next?”
I scan the ridge, the terrain, the cave behind us. The trap bought us time, maybe minutes, maybe more. But Beth and David aren’t giving up. They’re angry now. Desperate. And desperation makes people reckless.
“We move,” I say. “Higher ground. Secondary position.”
Rachel nods, already shifting her weight, ready to run.
But I stop her with a hand on her arm.
“No matter what happens, Im getting you out of this.”