Chapter 23
CHAPTER
TWENTY-THREE
The argument still hummed through the great room.
Olive eased back from the group, letting the shadows near the hallway swallow her. Her heart thudded steadily—not from fear this time, but purpose.
She glanced at the floor near the coatrack, looking for the backpack again, the one Bradford and Rachel had brought.
It was gone.
She frowned.
Had one of them taken it back into their room?
She needed to find out, and this might be her only opportunity.
While everyone was distracted, Olive slipped down the hallway and into the room where Bradford and Rachel were staying.
She only had a minute to look before someone noticed she was gone.
But the bag now sat on the bed.
She hurried toward it.
Carefully, she lifted the flap and slid her hand inside.
Her fingers brushed metal. Smooth. Cold.
She slowly pulled the object out.
Her breath caught.
It was a gun.
How had they managed to get this inside? Olive and Jason had checked Rachel and Bradford themselves. Rex had checked their bag.
There had been no gun, and this wasn’t an Aegis-issued weapon, so the couple hadn’t stolen it.
Olive’s mind raced.
The strange looks Rachel and Bradford had given each other. What if those looks weren’t because they were afraid? What if they were because they’d come here on purpose?
Her breath hitched. It was the only thing that made sense.
Olive needed to warn everyone.
Before she could turn, a faint click sliced through the air behind her, and someone said, “Put it down.”
Olive froze. She left the gun in the bag and raised her hands.
She slowly pivoted.
Just as she thought—Rachel stood just inside the door, gun in hand.
Bradford stood behind her, no trace of panic in his expression. He appeared calm. Calculated.
“Looks like curiosity really can kill the cat,” he murmured.
“The act’s over.” Rachel’s voice turned cold. “That’s a shame. I was starting to like you.”
“Who are you, and what do you want?” Olive asked, her muscles tight and ready to act.
Rachel’s lips curved into something that wasn’t quite a smile.
“You already know why we’re here. For Michael.
We can’t leave with him yet—not unless we want to kill everyone onsite.
And we’re not opposed to that, but we’d rather things play out our way.
You weren’t supposed to go snooping and find that gun. I saw you staring at the bag earlier.”
“We checked you,” Olive said. “How did you even get the gun inside?”
Bradford stepped closer, unzipping Rachel’s coat. The “pregnant belly” shifted and folded in on itself—nylon straps, Velcro seams, and beneath it, a false padding concealing compact weapons against her torso.
Olive knew that belly didn’t look right earlier . . . she hadn’t been imagining things.
Her pulse hammered. “You’re with them—the organization Michael turned on. The Winterlight Consortium.”
Rachel’s eyes glittered. “You could say that. We were supposed to extract him quietly and take him back to headquarters. But things have been complicated with the snowstorm and everything else going on.”
Olive’s mind still raced. “How did you even know to find him here?”
Rachel smirked. “We have our ways.”
What did that mean?
From the other room, the voices had dropped. The silence that followed was sharp—unnatural.
A moment later, Jason called, “Olive?”
Rachel’s finger twitched on the trigger. “Call him off.”
Olive’s throat went dry, but she forced calm into her voice. “I’ll be right back. Just one minute. I’m—”
“I don’t know what you’re about to say, but don’t finish that sentence,” Rachel snapped. “Not another word.”
Olive froze. The possibility she could send Jason a clue about what was going on died on the spot.
Her mind raced through possibilities of what might happen next, none of them good. Rachel and Bradford had done this before. They didn’t even appear nervous.
And that made everything even harder.
A chair scraped across the floor in the great room.
Then Jason called, “Olive?” again.
“He sounds worried,” Bradford muttered. “That’s going to be a problem. Reassure him that you’re okay.”
“I said I’m fine,” Olive called to Jason, forcing the words through a dry throat. “Everything’s okay—”
“Too late.” Bradford’s tone was almost casual as he slipped a small, metal device from his coat pocket—a square cylinder with a blinking red light.
Olive’s breath caught. “What is that?”
“Insurance.” He pressed the button.
A blinding flash filled the air.
The explosion hit a split second later, like thunder inside the walls. The sound cracked through the lodge, followed by shouts, yells, and crashes.
Smoke poured into the room, acrid and choking. Olive’s ears rang, a high-pitched whine drowning out everything else.
She stumbled back, eyes burning. Shadows moved in the haze—Rachel, Bradford, the glint of metal.
“What did you do?” she gasped.
“Bought us some time,” Bradford muttered, his tone ice-cold. “Gotta keep everyone on their toes.”
He grabbed Olive’s arm.
She tried to twist free, but his grip tightened. Beside her, Rachel still held her gun, pressed at her ribs.
Olive’s pulse hammered against her chest.
She heard someone coughing. Shouts. Movement.
The world tilted—noise, smoke, panic blending into a blur. Olive’s thoughts snapped into focus through the chaos.
She needed to buy her team time.
Rachel shifted, and the gun went to Olive’s head. “We only want Michael. Everyone else can stay here and continue on with your lives.”
Olive wished she believed it would be that easy.
But she knew they were all witnesses—and she knew Winterlight wouldn’t want that.
Before Olive could formulate what to do next, Jason appeared in the doorway, gun drawn. “Let her go.”
Bradford smiled faintly. “You really want to test who’s faster?”
Rex appeared beside Jason and raised his hands—one holding a gun—in the air as if to tamp down the situation. “You’re not walking out of here. Drop the weapon.”
Bradford took half a step back and let out a laugh. “You’re not in charge. Put the gun down. Now. Otherwise, we’ll blow her brains out. Don’t test us.”
Jason and Rex did as they were told and slid their weapons across the floor toward Bradford. The man took the guns and stuffed them in his waistband.
“Now, both of you get back in the living room with everyone else,” Bradford continued. “One wrong move, and she’s gone.”
“Easy,” Jason murmured, his gaze on Olive. “No need to be reactive. We’re moving.”
She saw the worry in Jasons’ eyes. She wanted to reassure him.
But there were no reassurances here.
With the gun still to her head, Rachel guided her from the room and into the living room to join everyone else.
Olive sucked in a breath as she saw the smoke hanging in the air.
A flashbang, she realized. Somehow Bradford or Rachel had planted one in the great room. That was what Bradford had detonated.
Most of the group stood, facing them with tense bodies—except for Mara and Michael who huddled in the corner. Trick and Mitzi took the first line of defense. Jason and Rex joined them.
Bradford had his gun drawn, ready to act if anyone disobeyed. “We knew Michael was here somewhere. We just need to take him and leave.”
Michael gasped and shook his head. “No . . . please. Don’t do this.”
Careful to keep her head in place, Olive glanced sideways and caught Tevin’s subtle nod.
He’d been playing with his drone earlier—the device now rested on a table near the stairs.
But his hand was beneath the table . . . and the drone controller sat on another chair, just out of sight from anyone who wasn’t looking closely.
“Wait . . . you’re not pregnant anymore!” Nova stared at Rachel, her eyes wide with surprise.
“No one can turn away a pregnant woman . . .” Rachel muttered with a sly, satisfied smile.
“You preyed on our kindness!” Mara’s lips parted in shock. “You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
“Alright, enough talking!” Bradford said. “Hand over Michael, and we’ll be out of here.”
Tevin’s fingers slid across the controller.
Just then, a blinding flash filled the air as the drone quickly rose in the air and discharged its strobe light sequence.
The distraction allowed Olive to twist out of Rachel’s grip and drop down.
As she did, the gun fired.
Someone screamed.
The bullet buried in the mantel, spraying splinters across the room.
Jason lunged forward before Rachel could fire again.
He caught her wrist, twisting hard.
Rachel kicked, trying to wrench free, but Jason was faster. Stronger.
He spun her, pinning her arm behind her back as Olive darted forward and kicked the gun out of reach.
It slid under the sofa with a dull thud.
“Don’t even think about it,” Olive said, her pulse hammering.
Across the room, Bradford pivoted, his weapon raised.
But Rex was already moving. He tackled the man, driving both of them into the braided rug.
The gun flew from Bradford’s grip and skidded toward the hearth.
Bradford fought back—hard—but Rex’s size gave him the advantage. He jammed a knee into Bradford’s shoulder, forcing his arm flat.
“Tevin!” Rex barked.
Tevin rushed toward him, Aegis standard-issue zip ties in hand—because, of course, he had them.
Olive hurried to help Jason. Rachel still thrashed, hair wild, breath ragged.
Olive grabbed the woman’s free arm, and together she and Jason forced the woman down so Jason could secure her wrists.
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Olive warned, adrenaline pulsing through her.
Rachel froze, her chest heaving, fury burning behind her eyes.
Across the room, Bradford was already bound, wrists cinched tight behind him. He tried to roll, but Rex planted a firm hand on his shoulder.
The room was chaos—scattered chairs, the sharp smell of gunpowder, the residual smoke from the flashbang, firelight flickering across shocked faces.
Then, finally, silence.
Olive wanted to believe this was all over.
But was it?