Chapter 15
chapter
fifteen
Caleb’s shoulders locked as tension snapped tight across his back.
He reached for his gun and angled the barrel up as his stance widened.
The drone hovered for half a heartbeat—long enough for him to register its shape and the way it held position.
That drone wasn’t a toy. It was high tech and expensive.
The whine of its rotors shifted pitch. Then the machine veered, banking hard and disappearing over the tree line.
Caleb lowered his gun but didn’t reholster it. His pulse kicked hard, the quiet around him suddenly charged.
He stood there another minute, waiting for anything else to follow.
Nothing did.
Out of caution, he scanned the woods, the ridge beyond, the stretch of sky now empty and gray.
These weren’t some kids messing around. Not up here. Not over private land with no clear access road and a closed gate. It wasn’t someone curious who’d stumbled onto the wrong place.
That drone was deliberate.
Someone was spying on them.
He slipped the gun back into its holster and forced his breathing to slow. Reacting poorly wouldn’t help anyone. Panic led to mistakes. He needed to think, not spiral.
A drone meant someone was watching without stepping foot on the property. Someone was gathering information instead of making noise.
The question was: Who?
He turned slowly, cataloging what could have been visible from above.
The proximity of buildings. The drive.
He pictured it through unfamiliar eyes and felt a fresh surge of anger.
Right now, there was nothing to tip someone off. But if one of their guests had been outside, that drone could confirm who was here.
That wasn’t okay. In fact, it was a safety hazard.
Caleb restarted the mower and headed back toward the barn, his pace now measured and his mind already shifting into containment mode.
He’d need to tell Naomi. Max too.
They’d adjust patrols. Do more ground checks.
Then Millie’s image filled his mind.
He hoped she hadn’t seen the drone.
She’d only just started to settle, and he didn’t want to hand her another reason to doubt the ground beneath her feet.
Not unless he had to.
She might think Garrick was behind it, though they had no good reason to think that. Still, it sounded like the man was dangerous—and determined. From the way Millie described him, Garrick thought of Millie as being his, and he wouldn’t let her go without a fight.
Caleb reached the barn and paused, looking back once more at the sky.
He would give this place his every last ounce of strength, energy, and money.
He wouldn’t give up—no matter how tempting it might feel at times.
Millie turned off the lamp and let the room settle into shadow.
The rest of the evening had been uneventful.
Caleb’s mom hadn’t come to help with dinner, so they’d eaten some baked chicken and potatoes. The conversation had been light, and everyone had turned in early for the night.
Millie had taken Biscuit out one last time, walked him far enough from the house that the night sounds felt bigger than she was ready for. He’d sniffed the ground, tail wagging once, then did what he needed to do and looked up at her like everything was fine. Like this was normal.
She’d fed him, showered, let the hot water ease the stiffness from her shoulders. Now she sat propped against the headboard, quilt pulled up to her waist, staring out the window at the dark beyond the glass.
The property disappeared at night. Trees pressed close, the woods swallowing the edges of everything until the house felt like a lone island of light. During the day, it looked safe. Thoughtful. Intentional.
At night, it felt exposed.
Her thoughts circled back to the same place they always did.
Garrick.
What if she’d made a mistake? What if logging into his account—just for a minute—had left something behind? A trace she didn’t know how to see. An alert. A breadcrumb.
She couldn’t stop asking herself those questions.
Because they were important.
They were life-changing.
If Garrick found her . . .
If he followed that trail here . . .
Her chest tightened.
It wouldn’t just be her who paid the price. There were other women here. Other dogs. People who hadn’t chosen her past or her fear.
How would she live with herself if she’d put them in danger?
Maybe she’d been foolish to think she could ever really be safe. Foolish to believe distance alone could fix what Garrick had broken.
Refuge Cove was a pause, not an ending. She knew that. She couldn’t stay forever.
Eventually, she’d have to move again. Start over somewhere new. Somewhere people didn’t know her name or her history.
But what was the plan after that?
She didn’t have one. Not yet.
Her gaze drifted back to the window, to the place where the darkness seemed thickest.
Another thought surfaced, quieter but harder to shake.
Caleb.
He was another thought that continually resurfaced.
Why him? Of all the places she could have gone, all the shelters and safe houses scattered across the country, why this one? Why had her path crossed his again after all this time?
Unless it wasn’t chance.
She wasn’t sure what she believed anymore, not in the neat, certain way she once had. But she couldn’t ignore the timing. The way this place had opened its doors just when she needed it. The way Caleb—of all people—stood at the center of it.
Maybe there was a purpose she couldn’t see yet.
Forgiveness, the thought whispered.
She frowned, pushing it away. She’d carried bitterness toward Caleb for years, letting the feeling settle deep, convincing herself the emotion offered her protection.
He’d been the one good thing in her life back then. The one person she’d trusted completely.
Then he’d walked away without explanation, leaving a hollowness she’d never quite filled.
She’d thought he was the man she’d build her future with.
Instead, she’d learned how quickly certainty could disappear.
The room was quiet except for Biscuit’s steady breathing from his bed on the floor. Millie’s eyes adjusted to the darkness, and that was when she saw something out the window.
A faint light. Brief. Flickering low among the trees at the back of the property.
Her breath caught.
Then it was gone.
The woods returned to solid black as if nothing had disturbed them.
She leaned forward, heart thudding, eyes fixed on the spot.
For a second, she was sure she’d imagined it. She’d been certain it was just a reflection or fatigue playing tricks on her.
She sat still, listening. Counting her breaths.
The house remained quiet. No shouts. No alarms. No movement she could hear.
Tell Caleb, a voice urged.
But another answered just as quickly. Don’t overreact. You’re tired. You’ve been on edge all day. It will just corrode any trust he has in you.
She pressed her lips together, weighing the choice.
If she told him and it was nothing, she’d look foolish. Paranoid. Like someone who couldn’t be trusted to assess her own fear.
Still, unease lingered.
Millie drew the quilt closer and lay back, eyes still trained on the window. She told herself it was just the dark. Just her imagination reaching for threats because it didn’t know how to rest yet.
But sleep didn’t come easily.
And even as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—someone—was out there, waiting to be noticed.