Chapter Sixteen
Abigail
The next morning, the Bitterroot Mountains looked as though they had been scrubbed clean.
Abby stepped out onto the wide, wraparound timber deck of the main lodge, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, and took a deep breath.
The air was razor-sharp and cold, smelling intensely crisp and fresh.
Above the valley, the iron-gray clouds had fractured, revealing patches of brilliant, blinding blue sky.
The compound was a revelation in the daylight.
During the storm and under the blanket of night, it had felt like a dark, isolated bunker.
Now, she could see the sheer scale and ingenuity of The Refuge.
The lodge was nestled into the natural curve of a massive granite cliff, making it completely invisible from the air.
A network of solar arrays, currently being cleared of debris by Kyle and Kaiden, gleamed on a southern-facing slope.
Several large outbuildings, including the garage, a greenhouse, and what looked like a massive woodshed, were connected by neat, gravel pathways.
It was a masterclass in self-sufficiency, built by men who knew exactly how to survive the end of the world.
And she was standing right in the middle of it.
The heavy oak door opened behind her, and Will stepped out onto the deck. He was wearing a thick, olive-green canvas jacket over his t-shirt, a pair of leather work gloves tucked into his back pocket.
He didn't say a word. He just walked up behind her, wrapped his large arms around her waist, and pulled her back against his broad chest. He rested his chin on the top of her head, letting out a long, contented exhale.
Abby leaned into him, resting her hands over his thick forearms. The intimacy was easy and natural, stripped of the hesitant tension that had defined their first few weeks. The kiss by the fire the night before had fundamentally shifted the gravity between them.
"Sleep okay?" Will murmured, his voice a low rumble against her back.
"Like a rock," Abby smiled, taking a sip of her coffee. "I didn't even hear you get up."
"Trent had us up at 5am to run damage control," Will explained, turning his head to press a soft kiss into her hair. "Lost two cameras on the eastern ridge to lightning strikes, and a massive deadfall took out a section of the secondary fencing. But the main grid held."
"What about the lower trail?" Abby asked, her stomach giving a small, complicated flutter.
Will’s arms tightened around her just a fraction. "Washed out completely. The mudslide took a fifty-foot section of the road right down into the ravine. Kyle took the drone up an hour ago. You're not getting a car out of this valley for at least a week, maybe longer."
Abby looked out over the tree line. A week. A week of safety. A week of Will.
"I can live with that," Abby said softly.
Will turned her gently in his arms so she was facing him. The morning light caught the stark, beautiful contrast of his stormy grey eyes. He looked down at her with an expression so fiercely devoted it made her breath catch.
"I'm putting you to work today," Will said, a playful edge creeping into his tone as his thumb brushed across her cheekbone. "Kyle needs help sorting the root cellar because the humidity spiked, and Kaiden is whining about having to chop kindling by himself."
"I have excellent hatchet skills," Abby reminded him, her eyes sparkling with challenge. "I'll have you know I am a very efficient employee."
"I know," Will said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned in, his lips brushing softly against hers. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of."
The kiss was slow and lingering, tasting of coffee and the crisp morning air. When he pulled back, he gave her a final squeeze and stepped away, pulling his work gloves from his pocket.
"Go find Kyle in the greenhouse when you're done with your coffee," Will instructed, falling back into his competent, operational rhythm. "I have to go help Trent clear the deadfall on the perimeter. Stay inside the wire, Abby."
"Yes, sir," she teased, offering a mock salute.
Will chuckled, shaking his head as he jogged down the wooden steps and headed toward the heavy tactical trucks parked near the garage.
Abby spent the next four hours proving she wasn't just a fragile civilian.
She found Kyle first, walking into the massive, climate-controlled greenhouse where the air was thick with humidity and the smell of damp earth. Kyle was up to his elbows in a long planter box, tossing dirt-caked carrots and potatoes into wooden crates.
He glanced up as she approached, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. "You sure you want to be in here, city girl? I don't have any hand sanitizer, and this is actual dirt. Not the organic, artisanal kind they sell at Whole Foods."
Abby didn't miss a beat. She grabbed a spare trowel from a workbench, walked right up to the planter, and plunged her bare hands directly into the damp soil.
"Kyle, I was a VP of Corporate Acquisitions," she said, casually unearthing a massive potato and tossing it into the nearest crate. "My entire job was digging up dirt and restructuring the mess. This is just a lateral move."
Kyle paused. He looked at her muddy hands, then up to her deadpan expression. A genuine, booming laugh escaped his chest. "Okay. Fair point. Grab that crate of carrots. Let's see if your restructuring skills apply to root vegetables."
An hour later, her hands were filthy, but she had sorted three crates of produce with terrifying efficiency. Kyle had stopped calling her 'city girl' and had started explaining the intricacies of their off-grid irrigation system, his respect visibly cemented.
From the greenhouse, she moved to the woodshed, where the rhythmic thwack of a hatchet echoed in the crisp mountain air. Kaiden was splitting logs into kindling, his breath pluming in the cold.
"Hey!" Kaiden grinned, leaning on the handle of his axe as she approached. "Look who survived Kyle's farm! Come to show me how a real lumberjack does it?"
"I'm just here to stack, Kaiden," Abby said, bending down to gather the freshly split wood.
Kaiden swung the hatchet down, cleanly cleaving a log in two. "Good. Because I reviewed Trent's overwatch logs from your little standoff with the mountain lion, and honestly? Your stance was terrible. Way too wide. You left your center of gravity completely exposed."
Abby paused, an armful of wood pressed to her chest. She looked at the young Ranger, raising a single eyebrow.
"I was wearing designer yoga pants and wielding a camping hatchet I bought at a general store.
I wasn't exactly worried about my center of gravity, Kaiden. I was trying to look too crazy to eat."
Kaiden laughed, a bright, delighted sound. "Well, it worked. But seriously, swinging the flat side of the blade against a tree? It's a miracle the handle didn't snap and hit you in the face."
Abby set the wood in the bin, dusted off her hands, and stepped right up to the chopping block. She held her hand out. "Give it here."
Kaiden blinked, his grin widening in anticipation of a disaster, and handed over the heavy hatchet.
Abby stepped up to a fresh log. She didn't have Will's massive strength or Kaiden's elite military precision, but she had spent the last three weeks chopping her own wood just to survive.
She adjusted her grip, narrowed her stance just a fraction to humor his tactical critique, and brought the blade down in a smooth, violent arc.
Thwack.
The log split perfectly down the middle, the two halves clattering onto the wooden floor.
She casually flipped the hatchet backward, catching the handle near the head, and handed it back to Kaiden handle-first.
"My center of gravity is just fine, Kaiden," Abby said dryly. "Next time a hundred-and-forty-pound apex predator decides to stalk me, I'll be sure to check my form before I start screaming."
Kaiden stared at the cleanly split log, then back at her, shaking his head with a massive, reverent smile.
"Oh, I love her!" Kaiden announced to the empty woodshed. "Doc is a lucky man. You're terrifying, Abby. I deeply respect that."
By early afternoon, her hands were dirty, her muscles ached with a pleasant exhaustion, and she felt a profound, grounding sense of purpose. She was carrying a basket of fresh tomatoes back into the lodge kitchen when she noticed the atmosphere in the compound had abruptly shifted.
The relaxed, post-storm energy was gone.
Trent was standing in the hallway outside the comms room, his arms crossed, his face a mask of stone. Will was standing next to him, still wearing his heavy canvas jacket, his jaw locked so tight the muscles in his cheek were ticking.
Abby stopped in the doorway of the kitchen, the basket of tomatoes resting on her hip.
Will looked up, catching her eye down the length of the hall. The warm, devoted light that had been in his eyes on the deck that morning was completely eradicated. In its place was the cold, lethal stare of a Tier One operator preparing for a firefight.
"Abby," Will called out, his voice sharp and clipped. "Leave the basket. Come in here."