I'm maybe two miles from the compound—I think—when the sound of an engine reaches me through the trees. I drop into a crouch and peer through the underbrush.
A dirt road. I didn't know there was a road here.
A black SUV rolls past, moving slowly. The driver is scanning the tree line with a spotlight mounted on the door. Looking for me.
I hold my breath until the vehicle disappears around a bend. Then I cross the road and keep moving south.
The compound appears through the trees like a mirage. A cluster of buildings arranged around a central lodge. Lights blazing in the windows. Activity.
They know something's wrong.
I'm fifty yards from the perimeter when a voice calls out.
"Stop right there. Hands where I can see them."
I raise my hands slowly, my whole body shaking with exhaustion and relief.
"My name is Vivian Russo. I'm the federal witness Deck Cross was protecting." My voice comes out hoarse, barely recognizable. "We were attacked. Deck's been captured. I need help."
A long pause. Then footsteps approaching through the underbrush.
The man who emerges is huge—taller than Deck, broader, with sandy hair and a thick beard. His rifle is trained on my chest, but his eyes are assessing rather than hostile.
"How do I know you're who you say you are?"
"The security code for Deck's cabin is 7-4-2-9. The panic room access is through the false wall in the basement. Deck has a scar above his left ear from Kandahar and another across his ribs from shrapnel." My voice breaks. "He told me he loved me three days ago. He said he wanted me to stay after the trial. He said?—"
"Okay." The man lowers his rifle. "I believe you."
He steps closer, and I can see the concern in his brown eyes. "I'm Cade. Cade Marshall. One of Deck's men."
"They took him." The words tumble out now that I've stopped running. "He was shot in the shoulder. They zip-tied him and left him on the western slope. They're looking for me but they haven't found?—"
"Slow down." Cade's hand closes around my arm, steadying me. "Let's get you inside. Get you warm. Then you can tell us everything."
"We don't have time. They'll move him. They'll?—"
"We have time." His voice is calm, certain. "Mace has been monitoring communications since the first sensor alert. We know the situation. We're already mobilizing."
"You knew?"
"We knew something went wrong. We've been trying to reach Deck for hours." He guides me toward the compound, his massive frame blocking the wind. "When we couldn't reach him, we started preparing for the worst."
The lodge is warm and bright, a stark contrast to the cold darkness I've been moving through for hours. Cade settles me into a chair by a roaring fireplace and wraps a blanket around my shoulders.
Another man appears—leaner, with military-short dark hair going silver at the temples. His eyes are sharp, assessing, and he moves with the coiled energy of someone who's been waiting too long for action.
"Mace." Cade nods toward me. "She made it."
Mace crouches in front of me, his expression controlled but intense. "Vivian. I'm glad you're safe. Tell me what happened."
I recount everything. The sensor alarm. The chase through the forest. The cave. Deck taking the bullet meant for me. The way he forced me to run while he bought me time.
"He was alive when I left him." My voice cracks. "They said Target One was secondary. They wanted me more than him."
"That means they'll keep him alive. Leverage." Mace's jaw tightens. "Did you see how many hostiles?"
"At least six. Military contractors. Professional gear, professional tactics. They couldn't use air support because of the no-fly zone, so they're operating purely on foot with vehicle backup on the access roads."
