Ghost: Negative.
Deke: Don't you dare disappear again.
Ghost: This is my fight. Stay safe. Stay alert.
Ronan: No can do, brother. Your fight is our fight.
Maya: We've been preparing for months. We can handle this.
Ghost: They killed Tank.
That stopped the flood of messages for a moment.
Axel: All the more reason to work together.
Ghost: All the more reason to keep you out of it.
Ronan: Huge negative. This is our fight, too. Don't shut us out again.
Griff stared at the screen, his throat tight. Every instinct screamed to accept their help, to stop carrying this alone. But the surveillance photos glowed from his tablet—his team in crosshairs they didn't even know about until now.
Ghost: I'll check in when I can. Stay vigilant. Trust no one outside KT.
Ronan: Ghost, wait?—
He closed the app before he could change his mind.
"So we really are alone," Sarah said quietly.
"For now." He locked the tablet, decision made. "Tomorrow, we'll figure out a way to get you to my team. Tonight, we stay put."
"And you? After you get me somewhere safe?"
He didn't answer. Couldn't tell her he planned to disappear back into the shadows, keep hunting until he found who killed Tank or died trying. She'd already refused to run once tonight.
"Get some sleep," he said instead.
Sarah lay back down, pulling the blanket up. Within minutes, her breathing evened out. Not peaceful sleep—her face still showed tension even unconscious—but at least rest.
Griff settled into the chair where he could watch both her and the door.
His sat phone sat silent on the side table, eighteen missed calls from Ronan alone. Ro probably figured he'd finally snapped completely. He wouldn’t be wrong.
But they were alive. As long as he stayed away, stayed quiet, they'd remain that way.
He pulled out his tablet again, starting his own analysis of the intelligence Sarah had gathered. She was right—there was always a pattern. And somewhere in the data she'd risked her life to protect was the answer to who'd killed Tank.
Outside, Montana wind rattled the windows. Inside, Sarah whimpered in her sleep, caught in some nightmare. Without thinking, Griff reached over and touched her shoulder gently. She settled, unconsciously leaning toward the comfort.
He pulled his hand back.
He couldn't afford attachments. Not now. Not with her. Tomorrow he'd find a way to get her to the team. They’d help her connect the dots. Then he'd disappear again.
But tonight, he'd keep watch. It's what Tank would have done. It's what Griffin Hawkins—the man his mother had hoped he'd become—would do.
The thermal sensors picked up movement. Another deer. But Griff stayed alert. Stayed ready.
Somewhere out there, killers were hunting them. Somewhere, his team was being watched. Somewhere, the conspiracy that had killed Tank was still operating.
