2. Grizzly #3
“Thanks, man.” Grizzly nodded toward Reef. “Let’s gear up quick. We’ll take Dad’s old F-350; it’ll handle the rutted access roads better than the rental, and it won’t stand out as much if anyone is watching the trails. Do you have your go-bag in the SUV?”
“Always,” Reef said, his laid-back surfer grin disappearing as his tactical brain took over. “I’ve got my primary kit and a basic medical setup.”
Grizzly turned to the rest of the team. “Picasso, Falcon, Hurricane—strip what you can from your bags. Extra MREs, water tabs, spare comms. We need to keep this quiet; don’t want to worry my parents. My brothers will pick up on the vibes, but let’s keep the noise floor low.”
The team moved with silent, practiced efficiency. They handed off the gear in the shadows of the hallway, a hand-to-hand transfer that took less than sixty seconds. Grizzly stuffed the extra supplies into his rucksack, his mind already six steps ahead on the trail to C5.
He headed for the mudroom to grab the keys to the F-350 when a shadow stepped out from the pantry.
“Benji.”
He froze, hand halfway to the rack of keys.
His mother stood there, a dish towel still draped over her shoulder.
She didn’t look at the tactical bag. She didn’t look at Reef, who stood by the back door like a sentry.
She stared Ben’s jaw: that hard, iron line he got when something was broken and needed fixing.
“Ma.” His voice dropped an octave. “Just heading out for a bit. Thea’s having some, ummm, trouble with her satellite rig. I’m going to go help her reset it.”
Marjorie Adams stepped closer. She reached out, her fingers brushing the heavy canvas strap of his pack. She knew he was lying. She’d spent eighteen years reading his tells before he’d ever left for the Navy, and fourteen more learning to read the silences between his phone calls from overseas.
“Your father always says that the mountains don’t care about your intentions, son,” she said softly, her eyes searching his. “Hope for the best, Benji. But you’ve got that look in your eyes that says you’re preparing for the worst.”
She reached up, cupping his face for a fleeting second. “You bring her back. And you keep your head down. I’ve already got enough biscuits in that oven to feed a rescue party, so don’t you dare make me use them.”
Ben leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You and your biscuits, don’t worry. I’ll be back before the party’s over, Ma.” He flashed her a devilish grin that made her laugh despite herself.
“See that you are,” she whispered, stepping back into the light of the kitchen as if nothing had happened.
But a flicker of unease shadowed her eyes for a moment, an old mother’s intuition whispering that this time might be different.
She swallowed the feeling, steadying her breath and forced a smile before turning away.
Ben watched her go, the warmth of the kitchen fading as he turned back to the shadows of the mudroom. He took a single, deep breath, adjusting the weight of the rucksack on his shoulder. The soft light in his eyes vanished, replaced by the cold, secondary focus of a mission lead.
Picasso was waiting by the door, his silhouette nearly invisible against the dark wood. He had been watching the exchange with the quiet respect of a man who knew exactly what it cost to leave a mother’s table for a fight.
“Stay frosty, Grizzly,” Picasso said, his voice low so as not to alert the family in the next room. “If you aren’t back or we don’t get a ping by the time the party’s over, we’re coming in behind you.”
Grizzly gave a sharp nod. He turned to Reef, who had already used the distraction to swap his board shorts and surfer shirt for rugged tactical pants and a dark flannel that hid his sidearm.
Reef slung his rucksack over one shoulder, the pack settling snugly as if he’d carried it on countless long hauls.
The sounds of the party buzzed around them, laughter and excitement blending into a vibrant wave. But Grizzly felt entirely insulated from it now.
“Let’s go,” Grizzly grabbed the keys to his dad’s truck.
The warmth and chaos of the family gathering faded behind them as they stepped into the cool evening air.
Once they were settled in the heavy F-350, Grizzly revved the engine.
With the ranch disappearing in the rearview mirror, his focus locked entirely onto Thea.
He reflected on her fierce intelligence, her passion for her work, and the bond they shared.
She was more than just his sister’s best friend; she was someone he had come to care for deeply.
Doubts began to creep into his mind. What if something was really wrong? What if he was too late?
The road narrowed with each twist and turn heading into the wilderness, and Grizzly pushed the accelerator a little harder, urgency coursing through him. Whatever was out there, he would confront it head-on.
“Are you ready for this?” Reef asked, breaking the silence as he checked the slide on his Glock 19.
“Always,” Grizzly replied, determination steeling his nerves. “Let’s bring her home.”