Chapter 10
TEN
RHETT
The first time I notice she’s not around, it’s small. A missing sound.
Emma’s laugh. Her footsteps. Her voice calling me “Mr. Tactical Mood Swing” like she’s trying to poke a crack in my armor just to see what’s underneath.
I’m walking into the main lodge with a mug of coffee and a head full of plans—find Wyatt, get an update, figure out what Silas has, keep Emma close—when the quiet hits me wrong.
The silence is deafening.
I scan the common area automatically. Harper’s got Poppi on her hip.
Kayley’s balancing Aidan on her knee. Chase is in the kitchen arguing with Boyd about whether eggs can be “over-hardened.” Thorne is posted near the window like the human version of a security camera.
Gavin is at the board, talking low with Rafe.
No Emma.
My chest tightens, and I turn on my heel and head straight for my cabin. The path is clear. Snow still falling. My boots hit the porch steps fast. The door’s locked. I punch the code and step inside.
The cabin is warm, fire low… and empty. The bed is made. Everything looks just as we left it, but still the space feels wrong. Like something’s missing.
Her bag is gone.
My stomach drops like I just stepped off a cliff.
“Emma?” I call, voice rough. Nothing answers but the crackle of the fire and the quiet thud of my heartbeat getting louder.
I move through the cabin fast—bedroom, bathroom, back door—checking corners like she’s a hostile and not the woman who fell asleep in my arms two nights ago.
Nothing.
What the fuck?
I stand in the middle of the living room, jaw clenched so hard it hurts. Where the hell would she go? And why wouldn’t she tell me? Confusion wraps around me as I stare at the spot her bag was sitting.
I thought we had something.
I’m already moving back toward the lodge, anger sparking under the fear. She’s not a prisoner here—but she’s also not safe outside the perimeter. Not with Mark Renshaw still out there and Mia missing and everything tightening around us like a noose.
I slam into the main lodge and catch Silas near the meeting room. “Where is she?” I snap.
Silas’s brow furrows. “Who?”
My hands curl into fists. “Emma.”
Silas’s face shifts. “I thought she was with you.”
“She’s not.” My voice comes out like a growl. “Did she say anything? To anyone?”
Harper looks up from Poppi, instantly alert. “Emma left?”
Kayley’s eyes widen, panic flickering. “She was just— I thought she was—”
Chase steps out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. “Whoa. Did we lose Emma?”
Boyd’s head turns slowly. “Explain.”
My pulse is hammering now, too fast. “She’s gone. From my cabin. From the lodge. No one’s seen her?”
Thorne’s voice is quiet. “When?”
“I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair, forcing myself to breathe. “Sometime after breakfast. After training. After—” After I let her into my bed. After I started believing she was mine.
Gavin’s head snaps up. Commander mode instantly. “Lock down. Wyatt—pull cameras. Thorne, Boyd—perimeter check. Harlan check the compound. Chase, Eli—sweep cabins. Silas—get your patrol units ready, but don’t move until we know what we’re dealing with.”
Everyone moves at once.
The room becomes controlled chaos. Boots. Radios. Screens flickering alive.
I don’t move. Not until I see proof. Because my brain is already filling in worst-case outcomes with sick precision.
Mark found her.
She tried to go alone.
She’s dead in the snow.
No. I refuse to believe any of this shit. She’s fine. But I can’t stop wondering why on Earth she’d leave. .
Wyatt’s fingers fly over the keyboard, face tight. “Pulling exterior cams now.”
The main monitor switches to the compound’s perimeter view. And there she is.
Emma.
My Emma.
Walking alone. She’s cutting through the trees like she knows where she’s going.
My throat tightens so hard it aches. “She left,” I rasp.
Harper presses a hand to her mouth. “Oh, honey…”
Kayley’s eyes go wet. “Why would she leave?”
The camera angle shifts—another feed. Emma slips out from the side of my cabin. My cabin. She pauses on the porch for a second, looking back like she’s… thinking. Like she’s making herself do it. Then she disappears down the path.
My jaw locks. The answer hits me like a punch. She heard us. She heard Silas questioning her, and she ran before we could corner her. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
I turn to Silas, voice deadly quiet. “She overheard you.”
Silas holds my gaze. “Maybe.”
“Not maybe,” I growl. “She did.”
Silas’s expression tightens. “Rhett—”
“She thought I didn’t trust her,” I bite out. The words taste like poison. Because after last night… after this morning… after she looked at me like I was safe… I should’ve protected her from that suspicion. I should’ve—damn it.
Wyatt’s voice cuts in. “She made it off property. No perimeter alarms. She used the woods.”
Gavin’s face goes hard. “Track her. Now.”
Wyatt nods. “Working on it. I can’t tap town CCTV directly without access, but—”
Silas is already moving. “I can. Give me two minutes.” He grabs his phone, steps aside, barking into it low.
My pulse is a drumbeat in my ears. Every second she’s off this mountain is a second Mark can grab her. I fucking hate this.
Wyatt pulls up the road cams near the base. “Wait—got her vehicle? No. She’s on foot.”
“On foot?” Chase blurts. “She walked into town?”
“Looks like it,” Wyatt says.
Silas comes back, grim. “Town cameras are up.”
He gestures at Wyatt. “Send me the timestamp.”
Wyatt does. Silas taps in credentials I don’t want to ask about. The monitor flickers again—new footage.
Timber Creek street view. And there she is again. Walking fast. Head down. Bag over her shoulder.
My chest tightens. Fuck.
“She’s heading toward the diner,” Silas says.
The footage switches—interior feed from the diner. Grainy but clear enough. Emma slides into a booth. A waitress approaches—Greta, probably. Hands her coffee.
Emma looks… wrecked. Like she’s holding herself together with duct tape and pride.
I feel something crack in my ribs. Then—movement near the door. A man steps into frame. Clean-cut. Familiar posture. A face I’ve only seen in photos but instantly recognize because I’ve been hunting him in my head for days.
Mark Renshaw.
My blood turns to ice.
Emma stands. He grabs her arm. She jerks back.
A van door slides open outside— And in the next second, she’s yanked out of frame like she’s nothing.
The camera catches her feet kicking. Her head thrown back.
A muffled scream. Then the door slams. The diner footage holds on the empty doorway like it’s stunned.
Silas swears under his breath. Harper makes a broken sound. Even Poppi and Aidan hold their breaths like they know what’s going on.
Kayley’s hand goes to Aidan instinctively, like the world just proved how fragile safety is.
I don’t breathe. I just stare at the screen, watching the moment she disappears replay in my head.
She’s gone.
Taken.
Because I didn’t keep her close. Because I let suspicion touch her. Because she ran… and ran straight into him. The rage that rises in me is violent and pure. It’s not tactical. It’s not measured. It’s primal. Mine.
Gavin’s voice is a hard cut through the room. “We go now.”
Wyatt’s already tracking. “Van headed east. No plates on camera. But I’ve got a route based on traffic cams.” He taps keys. A map flashes on screen with a moving line.
“Old industrial zone,” Thorne says, eyes narrowing. “There’s a warehouse strip near the river.”
Silas nods. “There is. And it’s outside town limits—barely. Sheriff jurisdiction overlaps.”
Gavin turns to Silas. “Pull local law enforcement. Quiet. We don’t want Renshaw tipped by someone dirty.”
Silas’s mouth tightens. “I’ve got two deputies I trust. That’s it.”
“Bring them,” Gavin says. Then he looks at me. His expression shifts slightly—not commander now, but man-to-man. “Rhett,” he says low. “You good?”
I don’t answer with words. Because if I open my mouth, I’ll say something that sounds like a vow and a threat all at once. I nod once. And that’s enough.
The room becomes motion again—men grabbing gear, loading mags, checking comms. Eli tosses med supplies into his bag. Boyd and Thorne pull rifles from the locker like it’s muscle memory. Chase rolls his shoulders, face turning sharp. Harlan follows suit.
Rafe steps up beside me and speaks quietly, like he knows exactly what’s happening inside my chest. “You bring her home,” he says.
“I will,” I rasp.
Gavin’s voice carries. “We move as a unit. In and out. Secure Emma first. Renshaw alive if possible. If not…”
No one finishes that sentence. Because we all know what “if not” means. And I don’t care. I don’t care about his badge. His status. His excuses. He took her. Plain and simple. The mother fucker took her from me, and now he’s going to have to die.
My vision narrows into a tunnel, and at the end of it is one thing: Emma.
We load into SUVs in the falling snow. Wyatt rides shotgun in the lead vehicle, tracking the route live. Silas is on comms with his trusted deputies. Gavin is in command channel, calm and lethal.
And me? I’m a storm in a body.
As the tires bite into the icy road and we head down the mountain toward that warehouse, one thought repeats in my head like a drumbeat.
Hold on, Trouble.
I’m coming.
The drive to town is quick. I don’t know how fast I drive, but I know it’s well above the limit. The warehouse lights appear in the distance. They’re faint, barely there. I step harder on the accelerator, my heart pounding in my ears.
I park the SUV in the lot, and we exit. Clean. Like we haven’t done this a million times. It’s all muscle memory at this point.
Gavin’s voice comes through my earpiece. “Weapons hot. Eyes up.”
I check my rifle, then my sidearm, then my knife—because I want options. Because I’m not losing her. Not today. Not ever.
We move on the building. Lethal. Like we’re one basic unit. Because we are.
“Positions,” Gavin orders quietly.
Men move like shadows, stepping out into the night.
Silas leans in beside me, voice low and grim. “We do this clean.”
I don’t look at him. I don’t need to. “Clean,” I agree. But inside, I’m already a different thing.
A man who has decided.
A man who is done being reasonable.
Because Emma isn’t just a mission now.
She’s mine.
And the second I see her… this rescue becomes personal.