Chapter 12 Trigger
Trigger
Ifelt it before the radio crackled.
That was the thing about real danger—it didn’t announce itself. It didn’t rush in loud and sloppy. It slid closer, slow and deliberate, like a hand easing toward the small of your back.
The cabin was quiet.
Too quiet.
The fire in the woodstove settled into a steady burn, logs ticking softly as they shifted.
The generator hummed outside, low and constant.
Rylie slept on the couch, curled on her side with the blanket pulled up to her chin, one hand tucked beneath her cheek as if she were trying to hold herself together even in sleep.
She hadn’t moved in for over an hour. She was actually resting for the first time all week.
I sat in the chair angled toward the front door, weapon resting across my thighs, boots planted flat on the floor. Every sense stayed sharp—listening for the crunch of snow, the snap of a branch, the change in air pressure that meant someone else had entered the woods.
Nothing.
And that was the problem.
I checked my watch.
2:43 a.m.
That was when my chest tightened.
No sound.
No movement.
But the certainty landed anyway.
He knows.
Not where we were.
Not yet.
But he knew she was gone.
I reached for the satellite radio and turned the volume just enough to hear the faint hiss of static. It crackled once, then steadied.
I waited.
Rylie shifted on the couch, letting out a soft sound—half sigh, half breath. I glanced at her, making sure it was just sleep, not fear dragging her under.
She was still breathing slow. Even.
Good.
I turned my focus back to the windows.
The glass reflected the inside of the cabin—firelight, shadows, me sitting like a statue that had learned to breathe. Beyond it was nothing but darkness and trees layered so thick they swallowed moonlight whole.
A place men got lost.
A place they didn’t come to unless they meant it.
The radio crackled again.
“Trigger.”
Saint’s voice was low. Controlled. That alone set my teeth on edge.
I picked it up without taking my eyes off the window. “Go.”
“We just had movement,” Saint said. “Thomas and at least three others. They were walking the streets. Looking in windows.”
My jaw tightened.
“How long?” I asked.
“Long enough,” he replied. “They didn’t touch anything. Didn’t make noise. But they were checking patterns.”
That fit.
Thomas wasn’t reckless. Not yet.
“Did he see you?” I asked.
“He saw enough,” Saint said. “He clocked me through the tavern window. Didn’t like that I was here, and knew I saw him. I’m surprised he’s waited this long to sneak around again hunting for her.”
A faint, humorless breath came through the radio. “He knows she’s gone.”
“I figured,” I said.
“He’s not panicking,” Wolf said on his comm, continued. “That’s what worries me.”
It worried me too.
Men like Thomas didn’t explode first.
They tightened.
“Town’s locked down,” Wolf said. “Guys are rotating watch. Sheriff’s tense but holding. Nora’s contractions spaced out again—she’s resting.”
Relief flickered through me at Nora’s name.
“Good,” I said. “Keep her safe. Are all of you still up?”
“I will keep her safe. It’s hard to sleep with men looking in the windows.” A pause. “Trigger… if he can’t reach Rylie, he’ll reach for leverage.”
“I know.”
“You sure you’re clear out there?”
I scanned the windows again. The door. The walls.
The woods didn’t move.
But I felt them anyway.
“We’re clear,” I said. “For now.”
Static hissed softly.
Then Wolf said, quieter, “He’s not going to stop.”
“No,” I agreed. “He won’t.”
The radio went silent.
I set it down slowly and leaned back just enough to ease the tension in my shoulders without losing readiness. My gaze drifted back to Rylie.
She was still asleep.
Still safe.
For the moment.
I stood and moved quietly across the room, every step measured. I didn’t rush. Rushing was for people who hadn’t learned patience the hard way.
I stopped beside the couch.
Up close, she was more beautiful. Softer.
Like the weight she carried during the day loosened its grip when she slept.
A strand of hair had fallen loose from her braid and brushed her cheek.
She was so different when we first met. Carefree, laughing all the time. I’ll make sure she gets back to that.
I resisted the urge to tuck her hair back.
Touching her felt like crossing a line I couldn’t uncross.
Instead, I adjusted the blanket, just enough to cover her shoulder where it had slipped.
She murmured something unintelligible and shifted closer to the back of the couch, like she was seeking something solid without knowing what it was.
That something was supposed to be me.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I straightened and went to the back window, peering out through a narrow gap in the curtain.
The forest stared back.
Dark. Still.
Waiting.
Thomas wasn’t here.
But he was closer than he had been before.
Not in miles.
In intention.
I felt it settle into place in my mind, cold and certain.
He would start squeezing the town.
Testing the people.
The Rangers would take care of the town.
He would try using force. That was how men like him worked.
I turned back toward Rylie and the quiet cabin that smelled like cedar and fire and safety that could shatter in a heartbeat.
“Not tonight,” I murmured under my breath.
I took my seat again, weapon steady, eyes forward.
Because the shift had happened.
And now it was just a matter of time before the quiet broke.