Haywood doesn't answer.
"Emma died because of you. How many others?"
"I followed orders." No remorse in his voice. "The network had to be protected."
"By murdering witnesses? By trafficking women?" She clenches her jaw. "You're not a soldier following orders. You're a coward who sold your badge."
Haywood's mouth thins, but he stays quiet.
I haul him toward the door. "We're done here. Finn's got a vehicle waiting at the trailhead. DOJ can have him processed by tonight."
We start the hike back with Haywood zip-tied and stumbling between us. He's exhausted, no conditioning for backcountry travel, slowing us down with every step. By the time we reach the trailhead, he's barely keeping his feet.
Finn's waiting with local FBI. They take custody, read Haywood his rights. Calder coordinates transport to Anchorage.
"DOJ wants him in federal lockup immediately," she says. "Full isolation, no contact with anyone until arraignment."
"Good." I watch them load Haywood into the transport vehicle. "Make sure he survives long enough to testify."
"Already coordinated with Marshals Service. He'll have protection."
The vehicle pulls away, red lights disappearing down the mountain road.
It's done. Haywood's in custody. The evidence is secured.
But The Marshal's still out there.
Sela's beside me, watching the empty road. "You think Haywood will flip?"
"Depends on what DOJ offers him. And whether he believes they can actually protect him from The Marshal." I turn to her. "Either way, we got him. That's what matters."
She looks at me, really looks. Her face softens.
"What?"
"You could have killed him in that cabin. He had a gun, he was making threats. Self-defense would have been justified."
"He's worth more alive."
"That's not why." She steps toward me. "You wanted him to face justice. Real justice, in a courtroom where Emma's death means something."
She's right. And she sees me clearly enough to know it.
"Come on," I say. "Let's get out of here."
Finn drives us back to the main road where my truck is waiting. The drive to my cabin takes time, winding mountain roads in near darkness. Sela's quiet, processing everything. I don't push. Give her space to work through what happened.
By the time we pull into my driveway, sunset's painting the mountains red and gold. The cabin's warm when we step inside, fire still smoldering from this morning.
Sela sets her med kit on the table, starts stripping off the tactical vest. She's shaking slightly. Adrenaline crash.
"You did good today," I say.
"I didn't do anything. You made the arrest."
"You tracked through backcountry for hours, kept pace, stayed alert. That's not nothing."
She looks at me directly. "I was terrified the whole time."
