Chapter 97
JAKE
The ridge crest reveals everything.
Staging area below: two cargo vans, three pickups, scattered work lights illuminating figures moving cargo. At least six men visible. Maybe more in the shadows.
"Contact," Mason says quietly. "Multiple hostiles, active operation."
I'm already calculating angles, exit routes, threat vectors—
Movement catches my eye. Fast. Coming through the tree line from the north.
A horse. Rider low against its neck, pushing hard.
My stomach drops.
Emma.
Behind her—headlights. Blazing. Closing in fast.
"Fuck," Luke breathes from the back.
No time for approach. No time for strategy.
I gun the engine and cut the wheel hard, positioning the truck perpendicular to the access road. The tires bite gravel, kicking up a cloud. I kill the engine but leave the truck running—ready to move.
"Contact in thirty seconds," Mason says, his voice steady as ice.