“Jack, I—”
The workshop door burst open.
Robert Calloway stood framed in the doorway, his face drawn tight. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but we’ve got a problem. Maggie just spotted headlights coming up the drive. Two vehicles, moving slow like they’re looking for something.”
Jack was on his feet before the words finished leaving his father’s mouth. “How did they find us?”
“I don’t know,” Robert said, “but we need to move. Now. There’s a trail that leads up to the old hunting cabin. About a mile through the woods. It’s defensible.”
Jack closed his hand around the locket and reached for Annie without thinking. As they hurried toward the house, he caught the distant gleam of headlights threading through the trees, the slow deliberate movement of hunters who believed their prey cornered.
His parents’ sanctuary had been compromised.
And Annie was once again the center of a storm he had no intention of letting reach her.
As they crossed the threshold into the night, Jack felt the weight of the locket in his palm and the warmth of Annie’s hand in his. Four years ago, he had convinced himself that distance could protect her. Tonight, running toward the tree line with danger closing in, he knew the truth he had spent so long resisting.
She was never the risk.
Losing her was.
Chapter 7
Annie’s heart pounded so hard she could feel it in her throat as she followed Jack and his father through the darkened house. The ranch that had felt so warm and welcoming less than an hour ago had transformed into something tense and watchful, every shadow heavy with threat. Maggie waited by the back door, a canvas bag slung over her shoulder and a rifle resting easily in her hands, the kind of practiced familiarity that spoke of a woman who hadn’t learned survival from fear, but from life.
“I packed some supplies,” Maggie said quietly, pressing the bag into Annie’s hands. “Food, water, first aid kit, and spare ammunition.”
The weight of the bag grounded her, made the danger real in a way the fire and running hadn’t fully settled yet. These peoplebarely knew her, yet they were preparing to defend her like family. The guilt pressed hard against her chest.
“I’m so sorry,” Annie whispered. “I never meant to bring this to your home.”
Maggie reached out and squeezed her arm, firm and steady. “You didn’t bring evil here. It finds its own roads. What matters is what we do when it shows up.” Her gaze softened. “And we don’t turn people away who need shelter.”
Through the kitchen window, headlights cut through the darkness of the long drive, moving slowly, deliberately. Two vehicles. Searching.
Robert stepped closer to Jack. “The trail starts behind the barn. It’s steep, but it’ll take you to the ridge where the old hunting cabin sits. Stone foundation. Only one approach.”
“Dad, you and Mom should come with us,” Jack said.
Robert shook his head once. “Someone needs to delay them. And this is our land.”
Maggie lifted the rifle. “And I intend to stand on it.”
Annie’s throat tightened. She had lost parents. She had nearly lost her uncle. She could not bear being the reason someone else lost theirs.
“We don’t have time,” Robert said quietly.
Jack turned to Annie, his hand closing firmly around hers. The contact steadied her more than she expected. “Stay close. We can’t use light until we hit the tree line.”
They slipped out into the night.
The air was cool, pine-heavy, almost peaceful. It felt wrong that something so beautiful could hold this much danger. They moved quickly across the open ground toward the barn, every instinct screaming exposure. Somewhere behind them, engines cut. Doors slammed.
Voices.
Jack pulled her behind the barn just as flashlights flicked on near the house, beams slicing across the yard in disciplined sweeps. These weren’t panicked intruders. They were trained.
“This way,” he whispered.
