Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
WYATT
I wake up to an empty bed and a cold space where Junie should be.
The quilt’s pushed back on her side. I sit up fast, heart kicking hard against my ribs like someone just punched me.
The cabin is quiet. Too quiet. No sound of her moving in the kitchen.
No soft footsteps on the wooden floor. No gentle breathing beside me.
I call her name once, low and urgent. Nothing comes back.
The silence feels heavy, like the whole mountain is holding its breath.
I stand up quickly, pulling on jeans and a shirt without thinking.
My rifle is leaning against the wall where I left it last night.
I grab it and check the chamber out of habit.
The cabin feels wrong without her in it.
The bed is too big. The air is too still.
I check the bathroom first. Empty. The sink is dry.
No towel on the floor. No sign she was ever there this morning.
I move to the living room. Empty. Her boots are gone from beside the door.
Her coat is missing from the hook. The small bag she kept by the couch is gone too.
She left.
The realization hits me like a fist to the gut.
I stand there for a second, staring at the empty hook where her coat should be.
My chest feels tight. My mind races. Why would she leave?
She was safe here. She was healing. She was starting to trust me.
Last night she had fallen asleep in my arms, her head on my chest, her fingers curled against my skin like she never wanted to let go.
And now she’s gone. Without a word. Without a note. Without giving me a chance to stop her.
I pull on my boots and head out the door. My chest tightens even more. I don’t know why she’s running, but I know I can’t let her go. Not like this. Not alone. Not when she’s still healing. Not when I’ve only just started to show her what it means to be safe.
I move fast down the path, boots crunching through the snow. I reach the main lodge and push the door open. The warmth hits me first. Then the voices. The women are in the kitchen, talking softly over coffee. Harper looks up when I walk in, her smile fading when she sees my face.
“Have you seen Junie?” I ask, voice tight.
They all shake their heads. Sadie looks concerned. “Not this morning. Is everything okay?”
I don’t answer. I turn and head toward the back where Silas keeps his office. He’s already there, talking to Gavin. They both look up when I enter.
“She’s gone,” I say. “Left sometime in the night. I need to find her.”
Silas stands immediately. “We’ll help. I’ll get the men together.”
Before we can move, the phone on his desk rings. He picks it up. His expression changes as he listens. He puts it on speaker.
The voice on the other end is the gas station clerk from the bottom of the mountain.
“Sheriff? There was a girl here earlier. She was crying, and asked to use my phone. Reminded me of the girl a few weeks ago, so I decided to call you. Then she left with some men in a black SUV. I thought you should know.”
Silas looks at me. “What’s the number she called on your phone?”
He gives us the number without hesitation.
I grab my laptop from the table and sit down fast. My fingers fly across the keys.
I run the number through my tracking software.
It takes a few minutes, but the signal pings.
A location comes up. A small motel just off the highway, twenty minutes from the gas station.
They’re still there. Or at least the phone is.
“We have a location,” I say, standing. “We move now.”
The men gear up fast. Rifles. Vests. Extra ammo. No one asks questions. They know what this means. Junie’s in danger. We have to get to her before it’s too late.
We head outside, loading into the trucks when a vehicle pulls up to the gate. Who the fuck is that?
A tall man steps out of the black sedan and adjusts his glasses. “I’m Agent Michaels with the FBI.”
Silas steps forward, opening the gate to let the man in. “What can we do for you?”
My heart pounds. Is this about Junie?
The man enters and eyes us carefully. “Looking for a hacker criminal you may be harboring here. Goes by the name Wyatt Henry.”
My eyes widen.
Silas shrugs. “No one here by that name.”
The man removes a cloth from his jacket and then removes his glasses. He wipes at the glasses with the cloth and chuckles. “I think he is here. A Junie Bellis told us Wyatt Henry is here, and I’m not leaving here until I speak to him.”