Jax
The field office came through faster than I expected.
My burner phone buzzed with the triangulation coordinates while we were still securing the last of the prisoners at the safe house.
The van had pinged off a cell tower near an old warehouse complex about thirty miles deeper into the mountains.
Relief and rage crashed through me in equal measure.
They had her. But now we knew exactly where to hit.
I stand on the porch watching the federal vehicles pull up, their lights cutting through the falling snow like blades.
The feds swarm in and take custody of the cartel men we had zip-tied inside.
I don’t even look at them as they’re hauled away.
My focus is laser sharp. Steel nerves. No room for doubt.
“Load up,” I tell the others. Mason, Kane, Brock, Colt, and Ryker fall in without question.
The six of us. Brothers. Battle-hardened marshals who’ve fucking bled together more times than I can count.
We climb into two reinforced SUVs, engines roaring to life with deep rumbles that vibrate through my chest. Snow crunches under the tires as we pull out, headlights slicing through the dark trees.
My hands grip the wheel tight, knuckles white, but my mind’s calm.
Deadly calm. I’m ready to find her. To bring my woman home.
The drive feels endless and too short all at once. Wind howls outside, driving snow against the windshield in thick waves. Wipers slap rhythmically, clearing arcs through the whiteout. I keep my eyes on the road, jaw locked, every mile bringing me closer to Ava.
We reach the warehouse complex just before dawn.
The sky’s still black, but the snow reflects enough light to make out the hulking metal building and the dark van parked crookedly out front.
I kill the engine and we move out fast and silent, boots sinking into fresh snow.
My breath fogs in front of me as I scan the area, rifle ready.
The van’s empty. Doors hanging open. No sign of Ava. No sign of anyone.
“Where the hell is everyone?” I growl, voice low.
We clear the warehouse quickly. Boots echo on the cold concrete floor inside. The place smells of dust, rust, and stale cigarette smoke. Empty crates. Flickering fluorescent lights buzzing overhead. No people. No struggle marks that tell me they still had her here.
Shouting drifts in from outside. Distant but clear on the wind. Angry voices calling in Spanish, flashlights sweeping through the trees beyond the clearing.
Kane tilts his head, listening. “They took her out into the woods. Sounds like they’re searching for her.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I strain to listen and he’s right. The voices are spread out, frustrated, calling orders to fan out and find the girl. A fierce pride surges through the fear. She got away. I know it.
“She used the self-defense I taught her,” I say, voice rough with certainty. “I bet she got away. But we need to find her before they do. Move.”
We take off into the woods without hesitation.
Snow flies around our boots as we run through the sky-soaring pines.
The cold air burns my lungs, sharp and clean.
Branches snag at my jacket, dumping loads of snow onto my shoulders.
My muscles burn with the effort, but the pain feels good.
Purposeful. Every step brings me closer to Ava.
“Spread out but stay in comms range,” I order quietly. “Call out if you find tracks or signs.”
Brock moves to my left, silent as a ghost. Mason takes the right flank.
The others fan out in a loose line. Our boots crunch through the snow, the sound muffled by the heavy powder.
Flashlight beams from the cartel sweep in the distance, dancing between trees like predators hunting.
I keep low, using the thick trunks for cover, my rifle ready.
The ground slopes downward and I pick up speed, leaping over a fallen log half-buried in snow.
My boots sink deep, cold seeping through but I don’t care.
Ava’s out here. Freezing. Terrified. Fighting for us.
The thought of her small body running through this wilderness alone makes my blood boil hotter than the exertion.
“Tracks,” Ryker calls softly over comms. “Small footprints. Heading toward the old logging road. She’s moving fast.”
Pride swells in my chest again. That’s my girl.
I push harder, weaving through the dense underbrush.
Snow-laden branches whip at my face, leaving cold wet streaks.
The wind howls louder here, carrying the distant shouts of the cartel men.
They’re closing in on her trail too. I won’t let them reach her first.
“Ava,” I whisper under my breath, the word a vow. “Hold on. I’m coming.”
We move like a well-oiled machine, years of training making every step coordinated.
Kane signals a group of three cartel searchers ahead.
We take them down silently. Quick. Efficient.
No shots. Just hands and knives in the dark.
Bodies drop into the snow with soft thuds.
I feel nothing but grim satisfaction. Anyone between me and Ava is a threat that ends here.
Deeper into the woods we go. My thighs burn. Sweat cools instantly on my skin under the layers. The cold’s relentless, but my focus never wavers.
Colt’s voice crackles low. “More tracks. She slipped here. Blood in the snow. She’s hurt but still moving.”
The words hit like a punch but I keep going. She’s alive. She’s fighting. That’s all that matters.
The evergreens thin slightly ahead. I catch a glimpse of the narrow logging road cutting through the white. Hope surges. If she reached the road she might have a chance. But the cartel shouts are louder now. Closer. They’re converging.
“Double time,” I growl into the comms. “We find her first.”
I break into a full run, snow flying behind me, rifle gripped tight. The wind stings my eyes. My heart pounds with every step. Ava. I’m coming. Hold on for me. Our future’s waiting. The cabin. The bookshelves. The life I promised you. I won’t let these bastards take that from us.
The woods stretch on, dark and unforgiving, but I’m not stopping. Not until I have her back in my arms where she belongs.