Beside me, I feel Megan tense, her breath catching audibly.
"There's no girl here," I say flatly.
"Don't insult my intelligence, Hale. We've been watching. We know she's running from someone with deep pockets and a long reach. He's paying good money for her location, and we're businessmen. So here's how this works—you hand her over, we ride out, nobody gets hurt."
The hell they will.
I pull my phone from my pocket with my free hand and send a single text to Grave:Four Deadwood riders. Now.
The response comes back in seconds:Two minutes.
Two minutes. That’s all I need to keep them focused on me and not on what’s circling the tree line.
"I'm going to give you one chance," I call through the door. "Get on your bikes and leave. You've got ten seconds."
The response is immediate, the sound of a boot hitting the door hard enough to crack the frame, followed by shouting and the unmistakable sound of weapons being drawn.
I move without thinking, shoving Megan down behind the kitchen counter and positioning myself between her and the door. "Stay down," I tell her, and there's no room for argument in my voice. "Don't move unless I tell you to."
She nods, her face pale but her jaw set, and then the door splinters inward and everything happens at once.
The first rider through gets my fist in his throat before he can raise his weapon, and he goes down choking and gasping. The second one is smarter, coming in low and fast, but I sidestep and use his momentum against him, slamming him into the wall hard enough that the impact knocks a picture frame to the floor.
The third rider hangs back in the doorway, weapon raised, and I see his finger start to squeeze the trigger. Time slows. I'm already moving, diving behind the couch as the shot cracks through the cabin, wood splintering where my head was a second before.
I come up firing, two shots center mass that drop him where he stands.
The fourth rider, the one who was doing the talking, doesn't come through the door. Instead, I hear his engine roar to life, and through the shattered doorway I see him peeling out, spraying snow and gravel as he tears down the road.
Running. Carrying information back to whoever sent them.
The cabin is suddenly, devastatingly quiet except for the groans of the two riders still breathing on my floor. I keep my weapon trained on them as I move, checking for additional threats.
Behind me, I hear Megan's shaky breathing, and I risk a glance back to make sure she's unharmed. She's still crouched behind the counter, eyes wide but focused, and when our gazes meet I see something fierce in her expression that wasn't there before.
She's terrified, but she's not breaking.
The sound of engines roaring up the road cuts through the quiet right on time. Grave's bike is the first through the trees, followed immediately by Miller and two prospects.
They take in the scene in seconds—the broken door, the bodies, me standing with my weapon still raised—and Grave moves immediately to secure the two survivors while Miller checks the perimeter.
"Clear," Miller calls out after a moment, his voice carrying a calm authority.
Grave hauls one of the Deadwood riders to his feet, the guy's face already swelling from where I hit him. "Talk," Grave says, his voice flat and dangerous. "Who sent you?"
The rider spits blood and glares, but Grave just tightens his grip, and whatever he sees in Grave's eyes makes him reconsider. "Contract," he rasps. "Some businessman out east. Said the girl was his property, said he'd pay ten grand for her location."
My vision goes red at the edges. Property, like Megan is something that can be owned and returned.
"Name," I say, stepping forward, and the rider flinches at whatever he sees in my face.
"Didn't give one. Just money and a photo."
Miller appears at my shoulder, his expression cold and assessing. "The one who ran?"
"Got away clean," I say, and I can hear the frustration in my own voice. "He'll report back to Deadwood leadership. They'll know we engaged."
"Good," Grave says, and there's a dark satisfaction in his tone. "Let them know what happens when they cross into our territory."
