My shoulder throbs where the bullet grazed me yesterday. The bandage Sela applied pulls tight when I shift. Pain grounds me, reminds me that yesterday was real—the gunfire, the blood, contractors trying to kill us both.
And after all that, after getting her to safety, I took her to bed.
My last CO in CID ignored the rules, cut corners, protected his buddies who were running black market operations out of supply depots. When I reported it, the system closed ranks. MyCO got a lateral transfer. His buddies got reassignments. I got pushed out for being "difficult to work with."
The rules failed me then. But without them, you're just another guy with a badge doing whatever feels right in the moment.
And last night, what felt right was Sela.
I slip out of bed carefully. She doesn't stir. The wood stove has burned down to embers, and cold has crept into the cabin overnight. My breath mists in the air. I add wood, get it going again, then dress in yesterday's clothes—blood on the sleeve from the graze, dirt on the jeans. I need a shower and clean clothes, but neither are happening right now.
My phone shows multiple missed calls from Rhys. I step outside to call him back.
Dawn is breaking over the mountains. Finn's place sits in a clearing surrounded by dense forest with good sight lines, defensible position, motion sensors on the perimeter. He and Cara chose well when they built here.
Frost crunches under my boots. The temperature dropped hard overnight, well below freezing. Winter may be on the way out, but she still has some bite.
Rhys answers on the first ring.
"You good?" he asks.
"Yeah. Lost them on the back roads. Finn intercepted. We're at his place."
"Hostiles?"
"At least several operators hit the cabin. Professional contractors, well-equipped. We took out at least one, possibly more. The rest broke off pursuit after Finn disabled their vehicles."
"They'll regroup."
"I know."
Silence on the line. Then Rhys says, "Harlow's working her contacts at Palmer PD, trying to get details on who called in the hit."
"Haywood's too smart to use his own people directly."
"Probably. But contractors leave trails—money, equipment, coordination. Someone had to hire them." He pauses. "How's the nurse?"
"Sela. Her name is Sela."
"How's Sela?"
"Holding up. She returned fire during the breach. Kept her head. Moved when I told her to move."
"Good." Another pause. "Emma's evidence seems solid so far."
"Agreed. Cara's still decrypting, but what we've seen so far is damning. Surveillance photos. Financial records. And audio recordings of trafficking victims naming Haywood as the federal contact who threatened them."
"Jesus."
"Yeah."
"That's enough to bring him down," Rhys says. "If we can get it to the right people without Haywood burying it first."
"That's the problem. He's FBI. He's got resources, connections, and every legal protection in the book. The moment we move on this, he'll classify the evidence as part of an ongoing investigation. Lock it down. Make it disappear."
"So what's the play?"
"I don't know yet. Cara wants a strategy session this morning."
