Chapter 19 Trigger
Trigger
The quiet broke first.
Not with sound—but with instinct.
Trigger froze mid-step, one hand on the cabin doorframe, the other already drifting toward the weapon at his side. The forest beyond the small clearing looked the same as it had an hour ago. Still. Empty.
Too still.
He’d learned long ago that silence could lie.
He scanned the tree line again, slower this time, letting his eyes focus just enough to catch what didn’t belong.
Nothing obvious.
That was the problem.
He stepped back inside and closed the door softly behind him, locking it without taking his eyes off the window.
“Rylie,” he said quietly.
She looked up instantly, reading his tone before the words registered. “What is it?”
“We’ve been tracked.”
Her face paled—but she didn’t panic.
“How do you know?”
“Because I can’t see them,” he replied. “And I should. I don’t hear the usual forest sounds.”
He crossed the room, grabbing his pack and spreading its contents across the table with practiced efficiency. Map. Compass. Burner phone. Extra ammo.
“This place was never meant to be permanent,” he continued. “It bought us time. That’s all.”
Rylie came to stand beside him. “So what’s next?”
The question mattered more than the answer.
She wasn’t asking to be reassured. She was asking to be included.
He met her gaze. “We don’t go back the way we came.”
“Okay.”
“No roads,” he added. “No patterns.”
She nodded. “Off-grid.”
His mouth curved faintly. “You’ve been paying attention.”
“I trust you,” she said simply. “And I always pay attention.”
That landed harder than any fear could. She trusted me to keep her safe.
Trigger folded the map, already reworking the terrain in his head. Thomas would assume he’d push north or double back east toward town.
Which meant he’d do neither.
“There’s an old firebreak ridge about six miles west,” he said. “Steep. No vehicle access. Ugly terrain.”
“Sounds perfect.”
He gave her a look. “It’s going to be rough.”
“I don’t care.”
A flicker of pride warmed his chest.
He moved quickly now, securing the cabin—wiping down surfaces, erasing signs they’d been there longer than necessary. The place would look abandoned by nightfall.
Rylie slipped on her jacket and boots without being told.
When she came back, she hesitated. “Trigger… Thomas isn’t going to stop, is he?”
“No,” he said without hesitation. “Men like him don’t.”
She swallowed. “Then running isn’t enough.”
Trigger met her eyes, something hard and certain settling in his chest.
“No,” he agreed. “Which is why this time… I’m not just getting you away.”
Her brows knit together. “Then what are you doing?”
He stepped close, resting his hands on her shoulders—steady, grounding.
“I’m setting the board,” he said quietly. “And when he makes his move…”
He leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers.
“He won’t like how it ends.”
Outside, a branch snapped somewhere deep in the trees.
Trigger turned, already reaching for his weapon.
“Time to move,” he said.
And this time, he wasn’t reacting.
He was hunting.