“Someone was in here!” I rasp, my voice still raw from the hit.
He doesn’t wait for me to say anymore, sprinting out of the tent barefoot with a rifle in hand. Damon is right behind him, and Jagger flicks on the small lamp by his bed. The harsh light slices through the tent, revealing the wreckage.
Reese sits upright, hair tangled, with confusion still hazy in her eyes. “What happened?” she demands, scrambling off the cot. Then she sees the broken laptop on the floor, and the color drains from her face.
“Someone was in here,” I repeat, forcing my voice steady. I rub my throat and glance toward the entrance where Gunnar disappeared. “He was standing over you.”
“Over me?” Her voice cracks. “What… How did he even…”
“I don’t know.”
Jagger crouches beside the shattered laptop, brushing dirt and shards of plastic aside. The screen is cracked clean through, spiderwebs of black stretching across the display. He turns it gently and shows it to Reese. She stares at it, her mouth parting as her brain catches up. “My files?—”
“Hold up,” Jagger interrupts, his eyes narrowing as they adjust to the dim light. He leans closer, running a thumb along the open compartment. “The memory card is gone. Whoever that was knewexactlywhat they wanted. They were fucking ballsy enough to come for her laptop. Fucking insane.”
“Insane or calculated,” I growl. My pulse hasn’t slowed since I hit the floor. I can still feel the solid weight of the man under me. Whoever he was, he wasn’t some random thief. He knew what he was doing—sneaking into a tent full of former Delta Force assault team members.
“Whoever he is, he’s not here anymore.” Gunnar’s voice rumbles from outside as he steps in, bare-chested, rifle still in hand. Sweat slicks his skin despite the chilly night. “I circled twice. Nothing. Whoever he was, he knew the layout. Moved like he’d done it before.”
I drag a hand through my hair. My voice is still rough, every swallow burning like fire. “Fuck...”
Reese kneels beside the wreckage, fingers shaking as she picks through the debris. The sight of her—bare feet, tank top, hair a wild mess of curls—does something to me. Even vulnerable, she’s stubborn as hell. Her voice is soft when she finally speaks. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Reese—”
“It doesn’t.” She looks up, meeting my eyes. There’s something defiant glinting in them. She almost looks amused. “Because the memory card isn’t gone.”
“What?” I ask, confused.
She reaches into the pocket of her pajama shorts and pulls out something small, a slim black SD card. She twirls it once, then sets it carefully in my palm.
“Old habits die hard,” she says, shrugging. “I’ve had too many editors try to ‘lose’ my work to steal the story. I learned a long time ago to leave a decoy and keep the important part on me.”
The four of us stare at her in disbelief.
“Believe me now?” she asks quietly, as I close my hand around the memory card.
“No story is worth this.” My tone is sharper than I intend. “You could’ve been killed.”
She meets my stare, chin lifting. “So could you.”
“You think this is a joke?”
“No.” Her eyes flick to the broken pieces of her laptop. “But I think whoever that was didn’t just want to scare us. He wanted something buried in those photos.”
Gunnar crosses his arms, his brows furrowing. “Something is happening or has happened in that village.”
“Yeah,” Damon agrees. “Which means we missed something.”
My thoughts are racing a million miles an hour: faces, threats, the village, the body, the military… Reese. Whatever she saw, someone is willing to crawl into our tent in the middle of the goddamn night to cover it up.
I hand the card back to Reese. “You keep this on you at all times. Understand?”
She blinks back at me, surprised. “You’re not going to take it?”
“Not yet.” My voice hardens as I shake my head. “After sending someone in here, they’ll assume they’ve got it. That buys us a little time.”
Damon nods. “Smart. If they’re that fucking ballsy, they will be back.”
