Chapter 32 Trigger
Trigger
Ifelt it before the call came in.
A tightening in my chest. A pressure shift—like the air right before a storm breaks. Years of tracking had taught me that instinct wasn’t magic. It was pattern recognition so deeply buried it lived in your bones.
Something had moved.
I was crouched on a ridgeline overlooking the industrial spur the van had disappeared into hours earlier.
An old water treatment facility. Decommissioned.
Concrete bunker bones with too many blind spots and not enough exits.
It didn’t take a genius to know this was where they brought her.
I knew it as soon as I knew the way they went.
Lucky for us, we were able to access all the county cameras.
This looked like a place people used when they didn’t want to be found.
Wolf’s voice crackled low in my ear. “Thermal just spiked. Movement inside the structure. Not controlled.”
Not controlled.
That was all I needed.
“They didn’t initiate,” I said. “She did.”
Silence on the line. Then, softly—“You sure?”
I didn’t answer right away. I was watching the building now. Really watching. The way a side door opened too fast, slammed shut again. The way two men ran instead of walked.
Fear makes men sloppy.
Rylie had found an opening.
My jaw clenched—not in anger. In pride.
“Positive,” I said. “She wouldn’t wait for chaos unless she created it.”
Another voice cut in—Havoc. “Alarms just tripped. Internal.”
I exhaled slowly, grounding myself.
This was the moment they’d planned for me to rush in blind.
Instead, I smiled.
“She’s forcing them to react,” I said. “Which means they’ll consolidate. Pull guards inward. Tighten the perimeter.”
“And?” Wolf prompted.
“And that gives us gaps.”
I shifted positions, scanning the tree line near the east side of the compound. There—barely visible. A service corridor masked by overgrowth. Forgotten. Unwatched.
They were focused inside.
Wrong direction.
I keyed my mic. “All teams, this is Trigger. Rylie is mobile. Repeat—Rylie is mobile. Do not breach yet.”
A pause. Concern edged Wolf’s voice. “She’s alone in there.”
“I know,” I said quietly. “Which is why we don’t spook them.”
Because if they panicked…
They’d hurt her.
My hands flexed around my rifle as another alarm blared from inside the structure—closer this time. Shouts echoed. Orders overlapping. No clear command.
They were losing control.
“She’s running,” Havoc said. “Heat signature—barefoot. Injured wrists.”
My chest burned.
“Guide her,” I said. “Use sound. Pressure. Funnel.”
I rose, moving fast and silent downhill, every step chosen with care. I could almost see her in my mind—focused, stubborn, refusing to give in even now.
Rylie Tate didn’t break.
She adapted.
“She’s heading toward the sub-level,” Wolf said.
I stopped.
Sub-level meant exits. Old drainage. Utility tunnels.
Hope.
Or a trap.
“She won’t take a dead end,” I said. “She’ll test it first.”
Just then—one sharp gunshot cracked the air.
Not close. Not aimed.
A warning shot.
My blood went cold.
“That’s them,” I said. “They’re trying to stop her without killing her.”
Leverage.
Still alive.
Still mine to get back.
I moved again—faster now, no hesitation. The storm had broken, and I was done waiting at the edge of it.
“Rylie,” I murmured under my breath, like she could hear me. “Hold on.”
Because somewhere inside that concrete maze, she had just changed the rules.
And now?
So had I.