She crouched near a cluster of broken ferns, studying the pattern of disturbance. Two people had stood here. Maybe three. The impressions overlapped in ways that suggested multiple visits over time.
Stop being good at this. Stop letting him see you.
Too late.
She could feel him watching her, taking in every detail she spotted without thinking.
Movement in the trees beyond stilled her breath.
A figure stood at the edge of the forest. Still. Silent. Watching. Not close enough her to discern features. Just a presence, wrong in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Gabe." She kept her voice low. "We're not alone."
He rose slowly beside her. His hand drifted toward his weapon as his eyes swept the tree line.
The figure vanished.
"Stay here." Gabe headed toward the trees.
She followed. Of course she followed.
Underbrush crackled under their feet. Broken branches marked a path through the dense growth.
Gabe swore softly and scanned the forest one more time.
Cara's pulse hammered. She knew what a watcher looked like. Her father had trained her to spot surveillance.
Gabe's jaw worked. "I can’t believe I never saw the tail."
"There wasn’t one." She shook her head. "They were already here. Waiting."
She tried to mask the fear crawling up her spine, but clearly, not well enough.
Gabe caught her eye. "You're safe with me."
The words came out quiet. Simple. A promise he had no right to make.
She hated how much she wanted to believe it.
"We should go." Her voice came out steadier than she felt. "Before they circle back."
They ran back to the SUV in silence. Cara checked the tree line one last time. Nothing moved. No shapes out of place. Just mist and forest and the distant crash of waves against rock.
Gabe unlocked the doors and waited until she was inside before rounding to the driver's side. The locks clicked the moment his door closed. He cranked the engine and pulled back onto the gravel road. Forest pressed close on both sides, branches scraping the windows like fingers trying to get in.
Cara watched the mirrors. Nothing followed them––at least nothing she could see.
18
Fog swallowedthe overlook behind them, thick and damp, pressing against the windshield like something alive. Gabe eased the SUV down the narrow access road, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. The trees closed in on both sides, branches scraping the roof with skeletal fingers. Somewhere in those shadows, someone had been watching them, cataloging their movements, reporting back to whoever had killed Ruiz and taken David.
His jaw ached from clenching it.
The urge to turn around and storm back through that forest burned hot in his chest. He wanted to find the watcher, put him against a tree, and shake him until he gave up every piece of information he had—names, locations, what they'd done with his brother. The need for action was almost painful in its intensity.
But training overrode instinct. You didn't chase shadows when you were outgunned and outmaneuvered. You regrouped. Reassessed. Found another angle.
Even when every cell in your body screamed to do something.
