Scout pressed deeper into the woods, shoulders set, his presence rolling through the silence like a storm waiting to break.
He wasn’t just tailing. He was hunting.
Out here, the mountain listened.
And if it had to choose sides, he prayed it was his.
Chapter 40
Echo
Evan Cole
The trailhead carried the scent of rain and damp leaves, a thin veil of mist clinging low across the ridges. The forest was alive in its own quiet way—the crunch of old leaves underfoot, the drip of water from branches, the wind threading through the canopy like a whispered warning. Every step echoed sharper than it should have, as if the woods were listening.
Ahead of him, Izzy adjusted her pack, smiling at the hush. She looked peaceful—like she’d stepped into a memory she wanted to keep. He watched her for a beat, noting the ease in her shoulders, the soft curve of her mouth. It made what came next almost poetic.
She thought of Caitlin—how she’d love this trail, this stillness. Her chest felt light, free. The mountain seemed safe, like a place where the world couldn’t touch them.
A few paces back, Evan’s stride was measured, each movement deliberate. His eyes tracked the sway of her hair, the curve of her shoulders. A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. This wasn’t about pleasure—though in another life, maybe it could have been. No, this was business. Necessary. Still, anticipationcoiled in him, energy humming just beneath the surface. Out here, hidden by the trees, he felt untouchable. She had no idea this was her last walk.
They came to the place where a massive oak had toppled years ago, its roots clawing at the air like frozen hands. Moss slicked the slope, shadows pooling beneath. Izzy frowned at the embankment. It looked treacherous, and for just a breath, unease fluttered low in her stomach—gone the second Evan extended his hand.
“Here—let me help.”
She gripped it without hesitation, her laugh light, trusting. The sound made the hair rise on his arms. So easy. So blind. He felt her weight in his grasp, and for one cruel moment, he reveled in how simple trust was to weaponize.
They pressed deeper into the woods, where even the birds seemed to abandon the path. The stillness grew heavier, almost reverent, as though the mountain itself was holding its breath.
When they reached the overlook, Izzy stopped short. “Oh, Evan… this is beautiful.”
The Blue Ridge rolled out before them, vast and endless—valleys folding into peaks, ridges fading into haze. For a heartbeat, she thought of Caitlin again—imagining showing her this view, laughing like they used to. She wanted to take a photo to send later, proof she was safe, proof she was happy. The thought warmed her.
“Here,” Evan said, lifting his phone. “Stand there, in front of the view. Let me get a picture.”
She obliged, smiling as the wind tugged her hair across her face. The shutter clicked, capturing her last smile in the golden light.
He stepped closer, as if to show her the screen. But instead of lowering the phone, his hand slid to his collar. Slowly,deliberately, he tugged a chain free from beneath his shirt. A delicate necklace caught the sun, swaying between them.
Izzy frowned. Her brows knit. Then her chest froze. Recognition crept in—slow, terrible. Her necklace. The one stolen from her condo. For a second, her mind rejected it, the meaning refusing to take hold—then it struck like a blow. Her eyes went wide, horror flooding them.
Evan’s smile thinned. He leaned in, voice a hiss. “A message from Jason.”
The words burned as his hands shoved forward, all his weight driving into her chest.
Her scream tore through the mountains, high and raw, scattering sound before it cut off. Her body vanished over the edge, tumbling into jagged silence below.
Wind tore past her, cold and biting. A branch caught her as she fell—splintered wood raking her temple, a flash of pain and warmth before everything went black.
The echo of her scream lingered, bouncing across the ridges, haunting the valley like the cry of a ghost. The forest held still, the hush heavy—as if the mountain itself had witnessed what he’d done.
Evan’s chest rose and fell hard. He stared down, expression settling into calm, then curled the necklace in his fist. With one sharp tug, he snapped the chain and flung it into the brush—discarded like trash.
Then he turned and strode down the trail, boots striking the earth. The silence that followed wasn’t relief—it clung to him, dense and alive, the echo of her scream shadowing every step.
Jason
Hours later, Jason leaned back in the leather seat of his rented SUV, phone pressed tight to his ear. Evan’s tone was steady, almost casual. “It’s done.”
