"Trust me." His eyes held hers. "I won't let you fall."
Something in his tone made her remember all the times he'd promised to keep her safe when they were young—before missions and service had changed him, before life had separated them and they were just doing stupid things around the lake.
She nodded. "I trust you."
Walker secured the rope and descended silently to the ground. He looked up at her, arms ready. "Jump," he called softly. "I've got you."
Sabrina clutched the large envelope with one hand and lowered herself over the edge. For one terrifying moment, she hung suspended, then let go.
Walker caught her, his strong arms absorbing the impact. For a heartbeat, they were pressed together, faces inches apart. Her heart pounded, but she couldn't tell if it was from the danger or his proximity. Then he set her down gently.
"This way," he whispered, leading her along the shadows of the house toward the tree line.
They made it back to their vehicle without incident, the precious envelope safely secured.
"That was close," Sabrina said once they were driving away. "Too close."
Walker's expression was grim. "Someone knew you'd come back for your father's files."
"Henry?"
"Possibly. Or someone Henry reports to."
"Reports to? You really think he has been working for someone else?"
He grunted. "Who shot up that boardroom?"
Anger stirred inside of her, then confusion. "I don't know."
The implications hung between them as they drove through the night, back toward the helo. Then they would go back to the safety of the cabin.
Chapter 8
Walker
Dawn was breaking by the time they returned to the cabin.
Walker noticed Sabrina's exhaustion, but also the magnetic pull the envelope seemed to have on her.
Her determination was familiar to him—he'd felt it himself too many times to count.
They sat at the kitchen table, the envelope between them.
Sabrina opened the envelope with trembling fingers. Her expression transformed as she read—shock, grief, and anger washing over her face. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and something in Walker's chest tightened at the sight.
She handed him the letter wordlessly, her eyes red-rimmed.
I'm sorry, kids. If you're reading this Sabrina and Walker, then … it all went sideways too quickly. Walker, I was trying to get justice for your father. He was trying to help me. I'm sorry. I love you, Sabrina. I love you and your mother. Find the Shepherd. Dad
As Walker read her father's words, a cold fury built inside him. The mystery that had haunted him for fourteen years—why his own father had died, why the Clarks had suddenly disappeared from their lives—crystallized into horrible clarity.
"I always wondered why our families suddenly stopped seeing each other," he said quietly, keeping his voice steady despite the rage building inside him. "My father's death is clearly tied to all of this."
"It wasn't an accident," Sabrina whispered, her voice breaking.
"No." Walker's voice was flat, controlled. Control was all he had. "Neither of our fathers' deaths were accidents."
Sabrina wiped her tears, her expression hardening. "They killed them both. Whoever this 'Shepherd' is, they murdered our fathers."
