Rook sticks to my side, glancing up at me every few steps like he’s measuring the sway in my shoulders, the drag in my stride.
The porch light flickers on automatically as I cross the last sensor zone. They are motion-triggered, which means all internal systems are still functioning. That’s good—the perimeter held long enough, keeping them safe.
I hit the first step and stumble, catching myself on the railing with a hiss. The wood creaks under my grip, slick with dew. My vision swims for a second, the edges dimming.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
I force myself upright. The front door is right there, just a few more feet. That’s all I need. I reach for the handle, but my fingers don’t quite make it. The world tilts hard to the left, the ground rushing up faster than it should. Rook barks once, just as my knees buckle.
I hit the stone porch on my side, the impact knocking what little breath I have left clean out of me. Pain explodes everywhere at once. The last thing I register is the door inches from my face and the safe room below it.
Kate.
Julian.
“I’m here,” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
The mountain fades to black.
21
KATHERINE
The safe room is as plain as one can expect, with concrete walls, a steel door, and no windows. It’s the last place I want to get locked up in, but there was no arguing with Ryder when he locked us in here. It’s not like I can go out there and help him fight off the bad guys.
Julian squirms against my chest, a soft, restless sound leaving his throat. He can feel the tension seeping off me. Babies always know when the world tilts.
“It’s okay,” I whisper, rocking him gently even though my arms are shaking. “Mama’s got you. We’re safe.”
Are we?Ryder guaranteed it, and I trust him, so I believe we are.
Ash presses his body closer, a solid, living wall of fur and muscle at my side. His head is up, ears alert, eyes fixed on the sealed door like he could burn through steel if he had to. He’s a calming presence in this already erratic situation.
All of a sudden, in the corner of the room, a few monitors flicker to life. They catch me off guard, but I relax when it registers what they are—my eyes outside. I suck in a breath, walking closer. The property sprawls across the screens in harsh greens and whites, multiple red markers blinking all over.
“They’re really here,” I murmur, though no one needs me to say it.
Julian whines softly. I kiss his forehead, my lips lingering longer than necessary. “I know, baby. I know.”
The first figure breaches the outer fence, and Ryder moves before I can fully process it. He comes out of the trees like he was carved from the dark itself—fluid and terrifying and precise. He moves with the land, not against it, using elevation and shadow like they’re extensions of his body.
A shot rings out, and I flinch so hard my vision blurs.
“No,” I breathe. “No, no, no—“
Julian lets out a sharp cry, startled by my sudden intake of breath. “I’m here,” I whisper frantically, pressing my cheek to his hair. “I’m right here.”
Relief floods my body when Ryder doesn’t fall; one of the bad guys does. He moves again, and one of the red markers disappears from the screen, then another. Rook is by his side, coordinated in a way that speaks of years of training and trust.
I watch as Ryder takes out the bad guys one by one. He moves through the terrain like he was born from it, every step methodical, every angle calculated. He doesn’t rush or hesitate. Hehunts.Watching him like this strips away the last illusion I had about who he is, or maybe who he pretended to be with me.
This isn’t instinct—it’s experience.
I see it in the way he anticipates movement before it happens, how he uses elevation and shadow the way other men use cover. I see it in the way Rook mirrors him, how they move as a unit without a single wasted second. Ryder isn’t reacting—he’s controlling the flow, forcing the intruders into positions they don’t realize are fatal until it’s too late.
