Chapter 54 Raine
Raine
By late afternoon, the motel parking lot buzzed with activity again. Black SUVs lined the curb, men in wide-brimmed hats and star badges stepping out into the fading light. The Texas Rangers.
Adam stood near the hood of a cruiser, arms crossed, jaw set.
He hadn’t shaved, hadn’t slept, and yet he looked every bit the commander.
Hawk and Russ lingered nearby, listening but silent.
I stayed close, not because I needed to—but because I couldn’t seem to be more than a few feet away from him.
Not after last night. Not after almost losing him.
The lead Ranger pulled off his hat, running a hand through his gray hair. “Your report says there were casualties on that ridge.” His voice was calm, steady, the kind that had weathered decades of crime scenes.
“There were,” Adam said flatly.
“Except,” the Ranger replied, “we didn’t find any. No bodies. No blood trails. No casings, either. Like the fight never happened.”
The words made the hair rise on the back of my neck.
Adam’s jaw tightened. “We didn’t imagine it. You found the people in those vans. Do you think they put themselves inside and chained each other up?”
“I don’t think you did,” the Ranger admitted. His gaze swept the lot, lingering on me before returning to Adam. “But whoever cleaned that ridge knew what they were doing. Quick, efficient. Military-level operation.”
My breath caught. Military-level. That wasn’t cartel. That wasn’t even organized crime.
“What does that mean?” I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.
The Ranger’s eyes softened, like he was weighing how much truth to give me. “It means somebody wanted to erase what happened. And they had the resources to do it. Except for the people in the vans.”
Adam’s fists clenched at his sides. “So who the hell are we up against?”
The Ranger didn’t answer right away. He just settled his hat back on his head, eyes shadowed. “That’s the problem, ma’am. Right now, we don’t know. It would be better if you didn’t trust anyone.”
Silence fell heavy, thick with everything unsaid. The Rangers would file reports, send evidence to labs, shuffle papers across desks in Austin. But Adam and I both knew the truth—answers weren’t going to come from them.
I slipped my hand into his, and he squeezed back hard, like we were the only solid thing in a world turning to smoke.
For the first time since the storm, I realized: the ridge hadn’t just been a battle.
It had been a warning.