26. Trigger
Trigger
Thomas lifted his weapon.
That was the mistake.
Trigger had warned him—had given him the courtesy of words he didn’t deserve. But Thomas had never listened unless fear forced him to.
Trigger moved before the gun fully leveled.
One step to the side.
One controlled breath.
One shot.
Thomas cried out, the weapon flying from his grasp as he went down hard, clutching his shoulder. The sound echoed once through the trees and then vanished, swallowed by the forest.
Silence rushed in.
Trigger advanced slowly, weapon steady, eyes never leaving Thomas as he writhed against the rocks, fury and disbelief twisting his features.
“You—you wouldn’t,” Thomas snarled, pain sharpening his voice. “You’re not a killer.”
Trigger stopped a few feet away.
“I am when I have to be,” he said calmly. “And you made that necessary the moment you threatened people who had nothing to do with this.”
Thomas laughed—ragged, unhinged. “She’ll always be afraid. You didn’t fix anything.”
Trigger crouched, bringing them eye to eye.
“You’re wrong,” he said quietly. “She already stopped being afraid of you.”
Thomas’s breath hitched—not from pain, but from something closer to panic.
“She chose,” Trigger continued. “And you lost the moment you forgot that.”
Sirens wailed in the distance now—faint, but growing closer. Wolf’s team. Law enforcement. The end Thomas hadn’t believed would come.
Thomas sagged back against the rock, rage draining into something hollow.
Trigger rose, stepping back, weapon still trained.
“You don’t get her,” he said flatly. “You don’t get control. You don’t get to haunt her life anymore.”
Red and blue lights flickered through the trees moments later, voices shouting commands, boots pounding over stone.
Wolf appeared first, eyes sweeping the scene, relief flashing hard and fast when he saw Trigger standing.
“It’s over?” Wolf asked.
Trigger nodded once. “It’s over.”
Thomas was cuffed and hauled to his feet, screaming now—wild, broken words that meant nothing anymore.
Trigger didn’t look at him again.
Rylie felt it before she heard it.
The tension that had been coiled tight in her chest for days suddenly loosened—like a string snapping free.
When Trigger emerged from the trees, walking toward her with that same steady stride, her knees nearly gave out.
He stopped in front of her, eyes searching her face first. Always first.
“It’s done,” he said softly.
She stared at him for half a second—then stepped into his arms and held on like she’d been waiting to breathe her whole life.
He wrapped her up instantly, pressing his cheek to her hair, anchoring her against his chest.
“You’re safe,” he murmured. “He can’t touch you again.”
Her breath shook. “I knew you’d come back.”
Trigger pulled back just enough to look at her, his thumb brushing beneath her eye.
“I told you,” he said quietly. “I don’t walk away.”
She smiled through tears. “Good. Because neither do I.”
He kissed her then—not fierce, not desperate.
Certain.
Behind them, the forest settled.
The threat was gone.
And for the first time since this nightmare began, Rylie felt the truth settle deep in her bones—
She wasn’t running anymore.
She was home.