Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
VIVIAN
Irun until my lungs burn and my legs threaten to give out.
The western tree line swallows me whole, branches slapping my face as I crash through underbrush. I'm not moving quietly anymore. Quiet doesn't matter when you're being hunted by men with night vision and rifles. Speed matters. Distance matters.
Deck's blood is on my hands. I can feel it, sticky and warm, even though I know it's already dried in the cold night air.
He told me to run. He made me promise.
I left him there on that slope, bleeding and broken, and I ran like a coward.
The tears come hot and fast, blurring my vision. I swipe at them with my sleeve and keep moving. Crying won't save him. Crying won't save me.
Behind me, flashlight beams cut through the darkness. Two of them, maybe a hundred yards back. They're faster than me, better equipped, better trained. The only reason I'm still free is because they expected me to panic. Expected me to freeze or trip or make some fatal mistake.
They don't know about the last two weeks. They don't know what Deck turned me into.
I reach a familiar landmark—a lightning-struck pine with a distinctive split trunk. I've seen this tree before. Deck pointed it out during one of our perimeter walks.
The main road is northwest from here. Maybe a mile.
I adjust my course and push harder.
My foot catches on a root and I go down hard, my palms scraping against rock. Pain shoots up my wrists but I'm already scrambling back to my feet, already moving. I can hear them behind me, their footsteps methodical and relentless.
"Target Two heading northwest. Intercept at the road."
The voice carries through the quiet forest. Radio communication. They know where I'm going. Of course they know. It's the obvious move.
I need to be less obvious.
Deck's voice echoes in my head. When you're being hunted, do the unexpected. Go where they think you won't go. Move when they think you'll stay still.
They expect me to run for the road. They expect me to seek help, flag down a car, try to disappear into civilization.
I turn east instead.
The terrain gets rougher almost immediately. Rocky outcroppings, steep drops, dense undergrowth that tears at my clothes. This isn't the direction of safety. This is the direction of wilderness, of nothing, of getting lost and dying alone in the mountains.
But it's also the direction they won't expect.
I climb.
My thighs burn as I scramble up a steep embankment. My hands are scraped raw from grabbing rocks and roots. The go bag on my shoulder throws off my balance, but I don't drop it. Water. First aid kit. Emergency beacon. Everything I need to survive.
Everything except Deck.
I push the thought away. I can't think about him right now. Can't picture him lying on that slope, his shoulder torn open, his eyes telling me to run even as his voice begged me to stay.
He's alive. He has to be alive. The man on the radio said Target One was secondary, not eliminated. They want him for information. They won't kill him until they have me.
Which means I need to stay free long enough to figure out how to save him.
I pause behind a massive boulder, pressing my back against cold stone, forcing myself to breathe slowly despite the fire in my lungs. I strain to listen.
No footsteps. No voices. No flashlight beams cutting through the trees.
I've lost them. For now.
I keep climbing until I reach a small plateau overlooking the valley. From here, I can see flashlight beams sweeping near the main road, searching the trees where they expected me to be. They're looking in the wrong place.
I allow myself thirty seconds to rest. My chest heaves, my muscles scream, but I'm alive. I'm free.
Now what?
The emergency beacon in my bag could summon help. Mace and the Guardian Peak team would come. But activating it would also give away my position to anyone monitoring emergency frequencies. And by the time help arrived, the contractors might have me.
I need a different plan.
Deck showed me the property maps during one of our security briefings. Guardian Peak's main compound is eleven miles south. Eleven miles through wilderness I barely know, in the dark, with armed men hunting me.
But if I can reach it, if I can get to Mace and the team...
We can go back for Deck.
The thought crystallizes into purpose. I'm not running away. I'm running toward help. Toward the only people who might be able to save the man I love.
I check the compass that Deck insisted we add to the go bag and orient myself south. Then I start walking.
The next two hours are the hardest of my life.
I move through terrain that wants to kill me. Ravines that appear out of nowhere. Rock faces that force me to backtrack. Streams swollen with snowmelt that soak me to the knees.
But I keep going.
Deck's training runs through my head on a loop. Watch your footing. Control your breathing. Use the terrain as cover. Move from shadow to shadow.
I stop every few minutes to listen. The searchers have spread out, their flashlight beams now distant pinpricks in the darkness behind me. Either they've lost my trail or they're regrouping for a wider search pattern.
Either way, I have time. Not much, but enough.
Dawn is starting to lighten the eastern sky when I hear the vehicle.
I'm maybe two miles from the compound—I think—when the sound of an engine reaches me through the trees. I drop into a crouch and peer through the underbrush.
A dirt road. I didn't know there was a road here.
A black SUV rolls past, moving slowly. The driver is scanning the tree line with a spotlight mounted on the door. Looking for me.
I hold my breath until the vehicle disappears around a bend. Then I cross the road and keep moving south.
The compound appears through the trees like a mirage. A cluster of buildings arranged around a central lodge. Lights blazing in the windows. Activity.
They know something's wrong.
I'm fifty yards from the perimeter when a voice calls out.
"Stop right there. Hands where I can see them."
I raise my hands slowly, my whole body shaking with exhaustion and relief.
"My name is Vivian Russo. I'm the federal witness Deck Cross was protecting." My voice comes out hoarse, barely recognizable. "We were attacked. Deck's been captured. I need help."
A long pause. Then footsteps approaching through the underbrush.
The man who emerges is huge—taller than Deck, broader, with sandy hair and a thick beard. His rifle is trained on my chest, but his eyes are assessing rather than hostile.
"How do I know you're who you say you are?"
"The security code for Deck's cabin is 7-4-2-9.
The panic room access is through the false wall in the basement.
Deck has a scar above his left ear from Kandahar and another across his ribs from shrapnel.
" My voice breaks. "He told me he loved me three days ago.
He said he wanted me to stay after the trial. He said—"
"Okay." The man lowers his rifle. "I believe you."
He steps closer, and I can see the concern in his brown eyes. "I'm Cade. Cade Marshall. One of Deck's men."
"They took him." The words tumble out now that I've stopped running. "He was shot in the shoulder. They zip-tied him and left him on the western slope. They're looking for me but they haven't found—"
"Slow down." Cade's hand closes around my arm, steadying me. "Let's get you inside. Get you warm. Then you can tell us everything."
"We don't have time. They'll move him. They'll—"
"We have time." His voice is calm, certain. "Mace has been monitoring communications since the first sensor alert. We know the situation. We're already mobilizing."
"You knew?"
"We knew something went wrong. We've been trying to reach Deck for hours." He guides me toward the compound, his massive frame blocking the wind. "When we couldn't reach him, we started preparing for the worst."
The lodge is warm and bright, a stark contrast to the cold darkness I've been moving through for hours. Cade settles me into a chair by a roaring fireplace and wraps a blanket around my shoulders.
Another man appears—leaner, with military-short dark hair going silver at the temples. His eyes are sharp, assessing, and he moves with the coiled energy of someone who's been waiting too long for action.
"Mace." Cade nods toward me. "She made it."
Mace crouches in front of me, his expression controlled but intense. "Vivian. I'm glad you're safe. Tell me what happened."
I recount everything. The sensor alarm. The chase through the forest. The cave. Deck taking the bullet meant for me. The way he forced me to run while he bought me time.
"He was alive when I left him." My voice cracks. "They said Target One was secondary. They wanted me more than him."
"That means they'll keep him alive. Leverage." Mace's jaw tightens. "Did you see how many hostiles?"
"At least six. Military contractors. Professional gear, professional tactics. They couldn't use air support because of the no-fly zone, so they're operating purely on foot with vehicle backup on the access roads."
"The Castellanos hired outside help." Mace stands and turns to Cade. "Wake everyone. Full tactical deployment. I want a rescue plan in thirty minutes."
"On it." Cade disappears through a doorway.
Mace turns back to me. "You did good. Getting here. Staying ahead of them. Deck trained you well."
"I left him." The guilt that's been burning in my chest finally erupts. "I ran away and left him there to die."
"You followed orders. You survived. That's exactly what he would have wanted."
"I don't care what he wanted. I care about getting him back."
Mace studies me for a long moment. Whatever he sees in my face makes him nod slowly.
"We'll get him back. I promise." He moves toward a table covered in maps and equipment. "But I need you to stay here. Stay safe. You're no good to Deck if you get captured trying to rescue him."
"I can help. I know the terrain now. I know where they were operating—"
"You've been running for four hours. You're exhausted, dehydrated, and in shock. The best thing you can do right now is rest and let us handle this."
He's right. I hate that he's right.
I slump in the chair, the adrenaline that's been keeping me upright finally draining away. My hands are shaking. My legs feel like jelly. I couldn't run another mile if my life depended on it.
But Deck's life depends on something. And I can't just sit here and do nothing.
"At least let me help with the planning. I was there. I saw their positions, their movements. I can—"
"Fine." Mace pulls a chair up to the map table. "Get over here. Show me everything."
I force myself to stand on trembling legs and cross to the table. The map spread across its surface shows Deck's cabin and the surrounding terrain. I trace the path we took, mark the positions where we encountered hostiles, indicate the cave system and the western slope where I last saw Deck.
"They were pushing us south initially. Herding us toward something. Maybe a vehicle extraction point."
"Or a larger force." Mace studies the map, his finger tracing possible routes. "If they have Deck, they'll want to move him before full daylight. Probably have vehicles staged on the fire roads here and here." He taps two points on the map.
"How long do we have?"
"Maybe an hour. Maybe less." He looks up as more men enter the lodge—a lean man with long dark hair tied back, wolf-gray eyes scanning the room, a younger guy with an easy smile that doesn't match the hard set of his jaw, others I don't recognize. They're armed, armored, ready for war.
"Listen up." Mace raises his voice. "Deck's been captured. At least six hostiles, military contractors, somewhere on the western slope. We have maybe sixty minutes before they extract him. I want two teams—"
I tune out the tactical details. The planning. The coordination. All I can think about is Deck, wounded and alone, waiting for help that might not come in time.
I promised I'd come back for him.
I intend to keep that promise.
Even if it kills me.
The radio on Mace's belt crackles. "Command, this is Wolfe. I have visual on Target One. Western slope, two hundred yards from the cave system. Three hostiles guarding. He's alive."
Alive.
The relief hits me so hard my knees buckle. Cade catches me before I hit the floor.
"Easy." His voice is gentle. "He's alive. That's what matters."
"I need to be there. When you get him out. I need to—"
"You need to rest." Cade guides me back toward the chair. "We'll bring him home. Trust us."
Trust.
I've spent six weeks learning that trust can be betrayed. That the people supposed to protect you can sell you out for money. That safety is an illusion and security is a lie.
But Deck trusted these men with his life. He built something with them from the wreckage of his past. If he trusted them, I can too.
"Bring him back to me." I meet Cade's eyes. "Please."
"We will." No hesitation. No doubt. "That's what family does."
Family.
I sink into the chair and watch Deck's team prepare to rescue the man I love. They move with purpose, with coordination, with the easy rhythm of people who've done this a hundred times before.
And somewhere on a mountainside, Deck is waiting for them.
Waiting for me.
Hold on, I think. Just hold on.
I'm coming.