"I will kill her!"
"You could. But then what? You think my partner won't put you down before you take another breath?" I gesture toward where Rhys is positioned. "He's a sheriff with three years of hunting the people who run this camp. And he's got you in his sights right now. The only reason you're still breathing is because I asked him not to shoot while you're holding her."
The guard's eyes flick toward Rhys's position. He can't see him but he knows he's there. Knows I'm telling the truth.
"Let her go," I repeat. "Walk away from this alive."
His hand shakes. The gun wavers against the woman's head. She whimpers but doesn't struggle. Smart woman. She knows better than to give him an excuse.
"I need to know you'll let me go," he says. His English is good. Educated. He's young enough to have a future if he makes the right choice.
"I can't promise that. But I can promise if you hurt her, you die right here. Right now. No trial. No lawyer. Just dead in the snow."
The seconds stretch. Every woman watches, holding her breath. Nate moves into position behind me. Covering angles. Ready to take the shot if this goes wrong.
But it won't go wrong. I won't let it.
"Think about your family," I say quietly. "What would they want? You dead in Alaska? Or alive with a chance to see them again?"
It hits home. His expression shifts. The guard is just a kid. Maybe twenty-five. Pulled into this network through desperation or greed or circumstance. But not a killer. Not yet.
His gun lowers. Just a fraction. Just enough.
"Drop it," I say. "Let her go and drop the gun. Do it now."
He does. The gun falls into the snow. The translator stumbles forward and I catch her. Pull her behind me. Safe.
The guard raises his hands. "Don't shoot. Please don't shoot."
Rhys emerges from the darkness without a sound. He has the guard zip-tied and on his knees in under ten seconds. Professional. Efficient. No wasted movement.
"Good work," he murmurs to me.
"You too. Thanks for not shooting him."
"Had him the whole time. But you had it handled."
We get the women moving again. Nate appears with two state troopers. They take custody of the captives, wrapping them in thermal blankets and guiding them toward vehicles staged on the access road.
"Guard quarters secure," Zeke reports over the radio. "Four prisoners. All with various wounds. But we have a problem."
"What problem?" Rhys asks.
"Sergei's not here. According to the prisoners, he left two hours ago. Took a snowmobile north to their secondary location."
Rhys goes absolutely still beside me. The kind of stillness that comes before violence.
"Where?" His voice is cold. Flat.
"Abandoned mining cabin about five miles northeast. He's got a head start but we can catch him."
"I'm going after him."
"Rhys, we need to secure the scene first. Process evidence. Make sure?—"
"I'm going after him," Rhys repeats. "Now."
Zeke is quiet for a moment. Then: "Copy. But not alone. Take Harlow."
