Rylie hadn’t looked like herself lately. Not subdued. Not careful. There’d been something in her eyes—resolve, maybe. Or relief.
Like she’d already chosen a side and was happy someone was keeping her safe.
Thomas exhaled slowly, forcing his anger down where it belonged. Rage made mistakes. Mistakes got people killed—and not always the right people. He had planned this since he saw her running for District Attorney. He could keep a lot of the cartel out of prison if his wife were the district attorney.
“Call Diego,” he said. “Have him run the back roads. Cabins, hunting shacks, anything off-grid within forty miles. No, make that sixty miles.”
Marco nodded, already dialing.
“And Marco?” Thomas added quietly.
“Yes?”
“If you find her… don’t touch her.”
Marco frowned. “I thought—”
“I want her whole,” Thomas said, his voice cold and precise. “She still needs to remember why she belongs to me.”
A truck rolled past them, the driver lifting a hand in greeting like Thomas was just another local. Another harmless face in a harmless place.
He smiled faintly.
They always underestimated the quiet ones.
His phone buzzed a moment later.
Unknown number.
Thomas answered without hesitation.
“Yes.”
A voice crackled through the line. “We found out the Ranger has a cabin. Up north. We’ll find them soon.
Thomas closed his eyes, satisfaction settling in his chest.
“Send coordinates,” he said. “And don’t engage yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Thomas replied calmly, “when I take Rylie back… I want her to know exactly why running was a mistake.”
He ended the call and looked out over the town one last time.
Enjoy the quiet while it lasts, he thought.
Then he turned away, already moving.
19
Trigger
The quiet broke first.
Not with sound—but with instinct.
Trigger froze mid-step, one hand on the cabin doorframe, the other already drifting toward the weapon at his side. The forest beyond the small clearing looked the same as it had an hour ago. Still. Empty.
