Finally, I said it. “If it is Frank… I don’t know what I’ll do.”
“Then let’s make sure it’s not,” he said simply.
I turned toward him. “Why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“Always trying to carry everything for everyone else.”
He smiled faintly. “Because somebody has to.”
I shook my head, looking away before the emotion cracked through my voice. “You can’t fix everyone, Hawk.”
“No,” he said softly, “but I can try to keep you breathing while we figure out who’s trying to kill you. You should tell your parents they need to go on vacation. Dad’s going to visit his sister in Miami.”
He stepped closer then, close enough that his shoulder brushed mine. Not a touch for comfort—more like a promise. Quiet, steady, impossible to ignore.
When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper.
“We’ll find them, Julia. Whoever they are. And when we do, they’ll wish they’d stayed in hell.”
The wind shifted, carrying the sound of engines from the valley below—vehicles moving fast on the old highway.
The quiet was over.
And the hunt had just begun.
11
Hawk
By noon, the rain had thinned to mist, but the tension inside the cabin was thick enough to choke on.
Boone and Miles were bent over the laptops, coding the bait message with language that sounded just real enough to be believed. Russ stood by the door with his arms crossed, watching the tree line like the woods might bite.
And Julia—she sat at the table, hair pulled back, jaw tight, typing up an official “report” that was anything but.
Suspect vehicles linked to Copper Ridge Mine believed to be relocating materials to abandoned storage site on Miller’s Creek Road. Possible shipment within twenty-four hours.
“Perfect,” Aaron said, leaning over her shoulder. “Once we upload that to the department database, whoever’s leaking information will send it straight to their contact. We’ll trace the route within minutes.”
Julia’s fingers hesitated on the keyboard. “You’re sure they’ll take the bait?”
Miles grinned. “If they don’t, they’re not the ones we’re looking for. But my money says they will.”
“Don’t make bets you can’t afford to lose,” Hawk said.
Miles’s grin didn’t fade. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Julia hitenter. The message was uploaded. A single, invisible thread cast into a pit of snakes.
Now, all we could do was wait.
By the timethe signal tripped, the light outside had turned a golden hue.
“Got it,” Miles said, eyes locked on the screen. “Ping originated from the sheriff’s office, external relay through a private modem off Highway 9. Whoever it is, they’re moving fast.”
“Where does Highway 9 lead?” Boone asked.
