I pushed harder on the wound, my hands already cramping from maintaining pressure. The coppery smell of blood filled my nostrils, mixing with the pine-scented Montana air.
Nolan and Ethan had shown up at the junkyard just in time, Ethan providing cover fire while Nolan landed the helicopter and ushered us aboard. The flight to the old resort near the reservoir took nine long minutes. Nine minutes of Dutch's labored breathing, of replaying Sheriff Parker's empty eyes andthat flat voice saying my real name.Evelyn Winslow.Nine minutes of knowing Langston had found us, had been watching, had turned an entire town into his hunting ground.
“Did everyone get out?” Dutch asked, his voice weaker than I’d ever heard it as Ethan and Nolan carried him off the helicopter. His eyes, though clouded with pain, remained sharp and alert, fixed on my face.
“Yes.” I nodded, glancing toward the convoy of trucks and cars parked in the clearing. “All twenty-three unaffected townspeople accounted for.”
Relief crossed his face, softening the lines of pain around his mouth. Even with a bullet in him, Dutch’s first thought was for the town he’d protected for decades.
“Preacher,” Ethan snapped. “We need you.”
Alistair appeared beside me within seconds, medical bag already open, taking in the situation with a single glance.
“GSW to the left shoulder, through and through,” Ethan reported. “Bleeding steadily but not spurting.”
“Good.” Alistair nodded, pulling on surgical gloves with quick snaps. “Missed the artery. I can work with that.” His voice carried a calm confidence that made my shoulders loosen slightly. He nudged me out of the way. “Evelyn, I got him now. You can let go when I count to three.”
He positioned his hands beside mine, gauze pads ready. “One, two, three.”
I lifted my bloody hands as he took over, expertly applying pressure while simultaneously checking Dutch’s pulse with his other hand.
“Pulse is steady, if a bit rapid,” he murmured, more to himself than to us. “BP looks acceptable given the blood loss.” He glanced up at me. “You did well. Pressure was exactly right.”
Dutch snorted. “Course she did well. Woman’s been running from trouble for years. Picks up things.”
I wiped my hands on my jeans, leaving rusty smears across the denim. “Not running anymore,” I reminded him, though his comment stung with truth. Five years of looking over my shoulder had taught me more about field medicine than I’d ever wanted to know.
Around us, the old resort buzzed with movement. Nolan’s helicopter sat at the edge of the clearing, rotor stilling. Townspeople huddled in groups, clutching bags and children, faces tight with confusion and fear.
My gaze found Sophia instantly, her small form curled against Mrs. Longfield’s side near one of the transport trucks. The old woman had an arm around my daughter’s shoulders, her silver hair catching the moonlight as she bent to speak into Sophia’s ear. The sight of my child safe, even temporarily, sent a wave of relief through me so powerful it made my hands shake.
A burst of static from the communications station nearby drew my attention. Decker’s voice crackled through, tight with tension.
“Bravo team engaging heavy resistance at south entrance. At least fifteen hostiles, armed and organized. We’re pushing through, but it’s slow going.”
Ethan stood at the comm station, his tall frame rigid as he processed the information. “Casualties?”
“Negative so far. Leo took a graze to the arm, nothing serious.”
Another channel cut in, this one from Lyric. “Sir, we’ve got confirmation. Gage has breached the facility through the tunnels. He’s gone dark but thermal imaging shows he’s engaging hostiles in what appears to be a lab area.”
Ethan cursed under his breath, the rare display of emotion revealing just how far sideways things had gone. “Confirm position of Alpha team?”
“Ten minutes out from mining facility,” came Trent’s voice, clear and steady despite the chaos unfolding. “Tower’s been destroyed. We’ve downloaded complete files from their computer system.”
That caught Ethan’s attention. “What kind of files?”
“Everything,” Trent replied. “Operations logs, personnel records, experimental data. Transmitting to Ozzy and Kate now for analysis, but I did a preliminary review. Sir, this is bigger than we thought.”
A tightness settled in my chest as I listened, my hands still sticky with Dutch’s blood.
“Multiple parties involved,” Trent continued. “Someone called ‘Primary Investor’ funded the NeuroLink purchase. Almost certainly Langston, based on the references to his wealth and arms connections. But there are mentions of other interests, other beneficiaries beyond just acquiring Evelyn and Sophia.”
“What kind of other interests?” Ethan demanded.
“The data is encrypted, but fragments mention ‘genetic markers’ and ‘proprietary developmental protocols.’ Something about Sophia specifically.”
The world seemed to tilt beneath me. Genetic markers? Developmental protocols? What the hell did Langston want with Sophia’s genetics?
