"Understood. Stay alert. We'll figure out next steps." He ends the call and turns to face us. "Wells says two armed men showed up in Whitewater Junction looking for us. Went to the station first and then went around town asking a lot of questions."
The room goes silent.
"Details," Zeke says.
"Wells spotted them at the gas station and approached. They opened fire instead of answering questions." Rhys's voice stays level, but fury simmers beneath it. "One dead, one in custody. The one they caught isn't talking."
"Which means there are more," I say. The trafficking network doesn't send a two-man team for a hit this important. They send backup. Layers of backup.
"And they know Irina escaped." Nate looks at the map, then at us. "This camp is going to relocate. Soon. Maybe in the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours."
Rhys shakes his head. "Then we hit it now. Tonight. Before they can move those women."
"With what team?" Zeke's voice is calm but firm. "It's you, me, Nate, Caleb, and Harlow. Five people against at least fourarmed guards on their home ground. We need reconnaissance. We need a solid plan. And we need to make sure we're not walking into a trap."
"While we're planning, they're moving victims."
"While we're rushing in blind, we're getting ourselves and those women killed." Zeke crosses his arms. "I know this is personal. I know it's connected to Emma. But we do this smart or we don't do it at all."
The silence holds. Two sheriffs. Two protectors. Both right in different ways.
I step forward. "What if Rhys and I disappear while you three do reconnaissance? The kill team is hunting us, not you. If we're off the board, they'll focus on finding us instead of securing the camp. Gives you time to surveil and plan the assault."
Zeke considers this. "Where would you go?"
"My cabin," Rhys says. "It's completely off-grid. No one knows the location except me. Not even Wells."
"How off-grid?"
"Forty miles into the wilderness. No road access for the last ten miles. Solar panels and a generator. Wood heat. Satellite phone only." Rhys looks at me. "It's primitive, but it's secure."
"Storm system moving in tonight," Caleb adds. "Weather service is calling for heavy snow. Could be two feet by morning. Perfect cover."
Zeke nods slowly. "Forty-eight hours. Nate, Caleb, and I will run full reconnaissance on the camp. Map every guard rotation, every entrance, every escape route. You two stay hidden at the cabin. We regroup in two days with a solid tactical plan."
"What about Irina?" I ask.
"She stays here under Doc's care. I'll have my deputy coordinate protection." Zeke's already texting. "No one gets to her without going through us first."
Tactically sound. But the idea of hiding while women are being held captive makes my teeth grind.
Rhys must see it on my face. "Forty-eight hours," he says quietly. "Then we bring them home."
I nod. Forty-eight hours I can do.
We spend another twenty minutes coordinating details. Communication protocols. Check-in times. Emergency extraction plans. The kind of planning that keeps people alive.
By the time we're finished, dusk is beginning to fall. The temperature has dropped ten degrees. Through the clinic windows, the first fat snowflakes drift down lazy and thick.
Rhys and I pack into his truck. The rear window is still cracked and spider-webbed from this morning's firefight, the safety glass frosted white where bullets hit but still holding together.
You sure about this?" I ask. The snow begins to fall as he pulls onto the main road. "Being stuck in a cabin with someone you barely know?"
His eyes stay on the road. "I'm sure about keeping you alive. The rest we'll figure out."
We drive in silence for the first twenty miles. The road narrows, pavement giving way to gravel, then to dirt track barely visible under fresh snow. Trees press close on both sides, spruce and pine heavy with white. The last gas station disappeared in the rearview fifteen miles back.
I pull my jacket tighter, watching the wilderness swallow us whole.
