No one disagreed.
Noah’s expression didn’t change, but his movements picked up speed. He transferred the third photo to the wall screen, and it filled the last open space beside the others. The image hung there like a sentence waiting to be carried out.
“They’re blindfolded,” Noah said, already pulling up the facial recognition software. “But there’s enough of their features showing to run a search. Maybe we get lucky.”
The system began scanning, mapping out bone structure, facial shapes, hairlines.
Brenna barely heard him.
All she could see were the bowed heads. The way their shoulders curled inward like they already knew what was coming. As if they had accepted it.
Her knees felt unsteady.
Someone was dragging her back into the wreckage of Timberline, piece by piece. Forcing her to relive the worst moments of her life. Not just the blood and the screams, but the helplessness. The bitter knowledge that she had been one step behind the entire time.
She had spent three years trying to silence those memories. Trying to do good in their names. Trying to prove that she could still save people.
And now, six more lives were being dangled in front of her like bait.
Her vision blurred for a second, and she forced in a breath. Not again. She wouldn’t stand by and watch it happen again.
Noah’s voice broke through the heavy silence, calm and clipped as he pulled out his phone and dialed.
“This is Riggs. We need a tactical team prepped and ready to move on Timberline. Full recon. I want boots on the ground within 15 minutes.”
Brenna didn’t wait for the call to end.
“I’m going,” she said, her voice quiet but sure. The weight in her chest hadn’t lessened, but she could breathe through it now. Action gave her something to hold onto.
“So am I,” Colt added, already reaching for his jacket.
Harlan gave a single nod. “No way in hell I’m sitting this out.”
Noah didn’t argue. He just ended the call and gave them a look that said he’d expected no less.
They turned almost in sync, moving to gear up. Brenna’s steps felt steadier now, her focus sharpening, but her phone buzzed again. So did everyone else’s.
More photos.
She stopped cold.
There were three of them, each sent separately, and these were different from the others. A message sat above the images, the first time words had accompanied any of them.
They’re taking your place.
Brenna’s stomach turned to ice. She opened the first image. And she instantly recognized the woman. It was Naomi, and she wasn’t blindfolded. Her eyes stared straight into the camera. Wide. Red-rimmed. Brimming with fear she was trying not to show.
She looked like she’d been crying.
Brenna swallowed hard, trying to hold back the wave of emotion rising in her throat. This wasn’t just a threat anymore. It was a statement. A message carved into flesh and fear.
This was someone they knew. Now she was kneeling. Alone. Vulnerable. Taking Brenna’s place.
Brenna couldn’t look away.
The second photo loaded, and Brenna’s breath caught, sharp and painful in her chest.
Beck.
