"Yes. The same person you're chasing." Cara pulls the flash drive from her jacket. "I've got evidence linking offshore accounts to trafficking operations, communications between corrupt officials, and documentation of how they used Stormwatch to eliminate agents who got too close to the truth."
Zeke takes the flash drive, turns it over. "What are you asking for?"
"Coordination with the task force. Information sharing. Maybe sanctuary while we figure out if federal marshals are going to descend on Glacier Hollow looking for me." She glances at me, then back to Zeke. "My source sent warnings this morning. DOJ pulled my colleague's files officially, flagged my alias credit cards, issued a recall order. They know I'm in Alaska. Days at most before they identify my exact location."
Silence settles over the bar. Zeke and Sadie communicate wordlessly, the kind of shorthand that comes from yearsof partnership. They're weighing risk against potential gain, calculating whether Cara's value as an asset outweighs the danger of harboring a federal fugitive.
"Your colleague," Zeke says. "Tom Rearden?"
Cara goes still. "You know about Tom?"
"Harlow mentioned him. Said he was murdered months before Stormwatch, that his death might have been connected to the investigation." Zeke sets the flash drive on the bar. "Your evidence ties back to his work?"
"Tom was family. He taught me how to investigate corruption, how to build cases that couldn't be buried by political pressure. When he was killed, at first, I thought it was just an accident. Then, when Stormwatch went sideways and they framed me for it, I questioned that and knew exactly who was responsible." Her voice stays level. "I've spent years gathering proof because nobody else was going to. Now I'm out of time and out of options. So yes, I'm asking for help from people I just met. Because Finn convinced me that survival isn't enough. That justice matters more than staying invisible."
The raw honesty in how she lays it out, no deflection, no softening the edges, is a calculated risk. But half measures won't work with people who've been fighting these battles for years.
Zeke exchanges another look with Sadie, and something passes between them. Decision made.
"Alright." He picks up the flash drive again. "Let me contact Rhys. If your evidence connects to what the task force has, we can consolidate resources. But Cara, you need to understand what you're asking. Glacier Hollow has been targeted before by the people you're hunting. Bringing you here puts everyone at risk."
"I know. If you want me to leave, I'll go. Find somewhere else to make my stand." She meets his gaze steadily. "But Finn saidyou don't run from danger. That you run toward it. I'm hoping that's true."
"It is." Sadie pours coffee, slides mugs across to us. "But we're practical about it. We protect our people. So if we're doing this, we do it smart."
Zeke pulls out his phone and moves to a corner of the bar to make the call. Sadie leans against the counter, studying Cara with careful assessment.
"What's your timeline?" Sadie asks.
"Jake's best guess is days. Could be more. Could be less. They know I'm in Alaska but they don't have my exact location yet. Once they narrow it down, federal marshals will move fast."
"My cabin," I interject. "It's remote, defensible, off any grid that matters. We can set up watch rotations, establish communication protocols, give the task force time to mobilize before anyone shows up looking for her."
"You volunteering your property as a safe house?" Sadie's eyebrows rise slightly.
"Yeah."
"That's a risk. Federal involvement, potential confrontation with feds who might not know or care about the frame-up."
"I know the risks. Doing it anyway."
Sadie studies me, understanding what I'm not saying. She's known me long enough to recognize when I'm invested beyond professional courtesy. "Your call. But if this goes sideways, it's on you."
"Already accepted that."
Zeke returns from his call, tension visible in how he holds himself. "Harlow's bringing Rhys up to speed. At some point, they’re going to need to review your evidence, confirm it matches what they have. If it does, they'll coordinate extraction and protection."
"Protection how?" Cara asks.
"They want you to come in. Surrender to the task force voluntarily instead of waiting for the feds to force the issue." Zeke's voice is careful. "Protective custody while they build the case. Harlow guarantees your safety, but it means trusting them."
Cara goes still. The coffee mug in her hands stops halfway to her mouth. "Trust the same system that framed me. The same Bureau that let my team die and pinned it on me."
"Not the same people," Zeke says. "The task force is specifically investigating corruption within federal law enforcement. They're trying to take down the Marshal. But they can't protect you if you're running, and they can't use your evidence effectively if you're underground."
Cara processes this, working through implications. Years of running have taught her that federal systems can't be trusted, that promises of protection are meaningless when corruption runs deep. But staying underground means the Marshal keeps operating, keeps destroying lives.
"How long do I have to decide?" she asks.
