Chapter Thirteen
Abigail
The first sensation was not pain, nor was it fear. It was a heavy, suffocating warmth.
Abby’s consciousness returned in slow, fragmented waves.
Her body felt impossibly heavy, pinned beneath layers of thick, weighted fabric.
She tried to shift her leg, and a dull ache radiated from her right knee, but it was a distant, manageable discomfort compared to the bone-deep chill that had consumed her hours earlier.
The air she pulled into her lungs smelled of rubbing alcohol, clean linen, and faintly of dark roast coffee. It didn't smell like mud. It didn't smell like pine needles or ozone.
She forced her heavy eyelids open.
The light in the room was soft and muted, coming from a small, amber desk lamp in the corner. Above her, a pristine white acoustic ceiling had replaced the sagging, wet nylon of her dome tent. She was lying on a narrow, firm bed with crisp white sheets, buried under two heavy wool blankets.
Her mind sluggishly tried to stitch the pieces together. The storm. The freezing water rising to her chest. The blinding headlights. The massive, armored truck.
She turned her head slowly on the pillow.
Will Hammond was sitting less than two feet away.
He was slouched in a low, ergonomic office chair, his long legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. The heavy olive-drab plate carrier was gone. He was wearing a faded, charcoal-gray t-shirt that allowed hints of the toned muscle underneath and heavy, dark denim jeans.
His elbows were resting on the armrests, his hands clasped together over his stomach.
His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even, his dark lashes casting long shadows over the sharp, rugged angles of his cheekbones.
He looked exhausted, the lines around his mouth deeper than they had been in the daylight.
Abby stared at him, her heart giving a slow, heavy thump against her ribs.
He had pulled her out of the flood. He had carried her into the truck. He was a former Navy SEAL.
As if sensing the shift in her breathing, Will’s eyes opened. There was no groggy transition from sleep to wakefulness. His eyes were instantly sharp, focused, locking onto hers with a piercing intensity that made the breath catch in her throat.
He didn't move abruptly. He simply uncrossed his ankles and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs.
"Hey," Will said, his voice a low, gravelly whisper that seemed to vibrate right through the mattress. "Welcome back."
Abby swallowed, her throat incredibly dry. She tried to speak, but her vocal cords felt like sandpaper. She settled for a weak, raspy, "Hi."
Will stood up seamlessly. He reached over to a stainless-steel tray beside the bed, poured a cup of warm broth from a pitcher, and slipped a bendy straw into it. He sat back down, leaning in close, and held the cup to her lips.
"Slow," he instructed gently. "Just small sips."
Abby drank. It was only chicken broth, but it felt like the greatest thing she had ever tasted. When she leaned her head back against the pillow, Will set the cup aside, his large hand lingering for a fraction of a second near her shoulder before he pulled it back.
"How do you feel?" Will asked, his eyes sweeping over her face.
Abby took mental stock of her body. She was warm.
Actually, she was sweating slightly under the heavy blankets.
Beneath the sheets, she realized she was no longer wearing her mud-soaked, freezing clothes.
She was dressed in an oversized, incredibly soft grey t-shirt that smelled faintly of cedar and Will.
A hot flush crept up her neck that had nothing to do with the thermal blankets.
"I'm warm," Abby said, her voice finding a bit more of its footing. "My knee aches. But I'm... I'm okay." She paused, her hazel eyes locking onto his. "You changed my clothes."
Will didn't flinch, nor did he look away or look embarrassed. His expression remained the calm, clinical mask of a medic. "You were hypothermic. Your temp was ninety-three degrees. Wet clothes pull heat away from the body twenty-five times faster than air. Leaving them on you wasn't an option."
He paused, a faint, wry amusement finally touching the corners of his eyes. "For the record, I kept my eyes on the ceiling. You have my word as an officer and a gentleman."
Abby let out a breathy, fragile laugh, pulling the edge of the blanket up a little higher under her chin. "Thank you. For the clothes. And... for the truck."
The amusement vanished from Will's face, replaced by a dark, heavy seriousness. He leaned closer, his forearms resting on his knees again.
"I'm sorry, Abby," Will said quietly, the apology carrying a profound, undeniable weight.
"I checked the radar before I rode down to see you yesterday.
The models showed a standard summer squall.
If I had known…I never would have left you out there.
I would have dragged you out of that valley kicking and screaming. "
Abby looked at the fierce guilt tightening his jaw. It was completely foreign to her. In her old life, men like David deflected blame. They made excuses. They gaslit her into believing any failure was totally her own.
Will Hammond was sitting here, having just risked his own life to drive a monster truck into a flash flood to save her, and he was apologizing.
"You didn't know," Abby said softly, her voice steady. "You warned me to tie down my tent. You did everything you could."
"It wasn't enough," Will countered, his eyes dark. "You nearly died out there."
"But I didn't," Abby replied, her chin lifting with a familiar surge of stubborn defiance. "You came back for me. You got me out."
Will stared at her for a long, quiet moment.
The clinical mask he had been wearing seemed to finally crack.
He reached out, and this time, he didn't stop himself.
His large, calloused hand gently brushed a stray lock of hair away from her forehead, the touch incredibly light, but it sent a shockwave of electricity straight down her spine.
"Yeah," Will murmured, his thumb briefly tracing the line of her cheekbone before he withdrew his hand. "I got you out."
Abby took a slow breath, trying to steady her racing heart. She looked past him, taking in the rest of the room. It was a fully stocked medical bay. Stainless steel counters, an IV stand, a locked cabinet of medications, and heavy timber walls.
"Where exactly is 'out'?" she asked. "I remember the gates. I remember the men in the garage. You said this was a private security compound."
Will sat back in his chair, scrubbing a hand over his face. "We call it The Refuge. It's a completely off-grid sanctuary. My four brothers and I bought the acreage a few years ago. We built the compound, secured it, and essentially dropped off the map."
"Brothers?" Abby asked. "Like, biological?"
"Brothers in arms," Will corrected. "We all served together, or in adjacent units. Special Operations. Navy SEALs, Marine Raiders, Army Rangers. We all came back carrying a lot of ghosts. The modern world... wasn't a great fit for any of us. So, Trent found this valley, and we built our own world."
Abby absorbed the information. It explained almost everything.
The immaculate medical kit. The effortless way he moved through the woods.
The tactical gear. They were an entire unit of elite operators hiding in the Bitterroots.
The only thing it didn’t explain was the capital to build something like The Refuge, but perhaps that wasn’t a bridge she should try to cross at the moment.
"And I camped right in your front yard," Abby said, a grimace crossing her face.
"Sector Charlie," Will nodded, a faint smile returning to his lips. "Three miles inside our property line. Kaiden's motion sensors pinged you the second your sedan hit the dirt road."
"So you were watching me the entire time." It wasn't a question, but she needed to hear him say it.
"We had thermal and visual overwatch on your clearing," Will admitted, meeting her gaze steadily. "Trent wanted to escort you off the property immediately. It's standard protocol. We don't allow civilians inside the perimeter."
"Then why didn't you?"
Will looked down at his hands. "Because I saw you in the grocery store.
I saw the way your hands were shaking. I saw the panic in your eyes.
I recognized it, Abby. I know exactly what it looks like when someone's mind is a hair away from shattering completely, because I've been there.
I told Trent that if we kicked you out, you were going to drive into the national forest and die of exposure. "
He looked back up at her, the intensity in his eyes paralyzing. "I told him you needed a place to fall apart where nobody was going to demand anything from you. So, we drew a circle around your camp. We let you fight your own battles, and we watched to make sure you were safe doing it."
Abby’s eyes burned. The tears came fast and hot, completely unbidden.
In Los Angeles, her breakdown had been treated as an inconvenience. It was a failure of productivity. David had looked at her with disgust. Her boss had looked at her with impatience.
But Will Hammond had looked at her broken pieces, recognized the shape of them, and quietly built a fortress around her so she could put herself back together.
She reached her hand out from under the heavy wool blanket. Will didn't hesitate. He took her hand, his large, rough fingers wrapping around hers with a warm, grounding pressure.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick. "I would have died out there. Even before the storm. I would have died."
"No, you wouldn't have," Will said fiercely, squeezing her hand. "You're the toughest woman I've ever met, Abby. You stood down a hundred-and-forty-pound mountain lion with a hatchet and a can of pepper spray. You survived because you have iron in your spine."
Abby let out a wet, breathless laugh, wiping a tear from her cheek with her free hand. "You saw that?"
"My crosshairs were on the cat's skull the entire time," Will said, his voice dropping to a dark, lethal register. "If it had twitched its hind legs, I would have taken its head off. But you didn't need me to."
She looked at their joined hands…the stark contrast of his tanned, scarred skin against her pale fingers. She didn't want to let go.
"So," Abby said softly, looking up through her lashes. "What happens now? Trent doesn't allow civilians. I'm assuming I'm a massive security breach."
Will’s jaw tightened. He gently released her hand and stood up. "You are. But the access roads are completely washed out. The mudslides on the western ridge make the trail impassable for at least the next four days until the ground dries. You aren't going anywhere."
"Will Trent be a problem?"
"Trent barks," Will said, a fond edge creeping into his voice. "He's going to read you the riot act about operational security, and he's going to establish ground rules. But he authorized the extraction. He isn't going to throw you back out into the rain."
Will walked over to a small wooden chair in the corner of the room and picked up a neatly folded pile of clothes.
"Kyle threw your clothes in the industrial washer and dryer," Will said, setting the pile at the foot of her bed.
"What’s left of whatever those things were you had on your feet are drying on the racks in the mudroom.
I'm going to go hit the kitchen and get you some real food.
Not instant oatmeal. Real food. Think you can stand? "
Abby pushed the heavy blankets aside. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. Her muscles protested, a deep ache radiating through her entire body, but she was warm.
"I can stand," she said, her bare feet hitting the cold hardwood floor.
Will watched her closely, his hands hovering inches away, ready to catch her if her knee buckled. But it held. She stood up straight, the oversized grey t-shirt dropping down to mid-thigh.
"Good," Will said, his eyes darkening slightly as they swept over her, a sudden, heavy tension flooding the small room.
He cleared his throat and took a step back toward the door.
"Get dressed. There's a bathroom through that door if you want a hot shower.
When you're ready, come down the hall. Take a left.
I'll introduce you to the other monsters in the dark. "
Abby smiled. "I've faced monsters in the dark before, Will. I think I can handle a few ex-military guys."
Will grabbed the heavy iron handle of the door. He looked back at her, that lopsided, devastating smile finally breaking across his face.
"They have no idea what they're in for," he murmured. He opened the door and stepped out into the hallway, leaving Abby alone in the quiet warmth of the infirmary.