The night air carried the scent of pine and mountain sage as I crouched in the shadows behind the luminook pen. Stars scattered across the inky sky like diamond dust, offering just enough light to see without betraying our position. My muscles ached from holding still for so long, but I remained motionless, barely breathing.
Dungar had positioned himself on the opposite side of the clearing, his large frame somehow melting into the darkness. His brothers had stationed themselves with their mates at strategic points around the perimeter, creating an invisible net ready to close in on our target—assuming they acted tonight. If they didn’t, we’d repeat the procedure each evening until they did.
“Movement at the north entrance,” Ruugar whispered through my earpiece. “A single figure approaching along the maintenance path, wearing a mask and loose clothing.”
My pulse quickened. “Awesome,” I breathed, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet, ready to move.
Through my night vision binoculars, I spotted them slipping between the trees peppering the open grassy area north of the luminook pens. They moved carefully, aiming for the pens.
They were carrying a crate, and I suspected it was the one we’d found in the maintenance shed.
“Crate in hand,” I whispered through my radio.
“Wait until they’re fully committed,” Dungar said. “Let them enter the pen.”
I watched as they paused at the main enclosure, checking the area before producing a tool to work the lock. The gate swung open with barely a sound, and they stepped inside, immediately moving toward the sleeping luminooks, the cage in hand.
“Now,” Dungar said.
I burst from my hiding place, sprinting toward the pen as floodlights blazed to life, bathing the entire area in harsh white light. They froze for half a second before bolting, abandoning the cage as they raced out through the gate, aiming for the open plain.
“Stop, Sheriff’s department,” I shouted, giving chase.
They were fast, their feet barely touching the ground as they fled. They vaulted over a fallen log, clearly familiar with the terrain. Around me, the heavier footfalls of Dungar and his brothers rang out as they converged from different directions.
The person veered left, heading toward a steep ravine that would be nearly impossible to navigate in the dark.Smart. If they reached it before us, they’d have a good chance of disappearing.
I cut diagonally across the open ground, pushing my legs harder, gaining precious distance. Just as they reached the tip of the ravine, I launched forward in a diving tackle that caught them around the knees. We both went down hard, rolling through the underbrush in a tangle of limbs.
“Got you,” I panted, struggling to pin their surprisingly small frame as they thrashed beneath me.
“Let me go,” a panicked voice cried out.
Dungar rushed over to stand beside us, helping me secure the writhing figure and sit them up on the ground.
“It’s over,” he said. “You’re caught.”
I stood while the others approached with flashlights blazing.
I pulled off the ski mask covering their face. My jaw dropped.
“You?”
Dark hair tumbled around the teenager Jamie’s face, and her expression held a hardness that didn’t belong on someone so young.
“Jamie?” Dungar growled. “Jamie Morgan?”
She stopped struggling, her shoulders slumping in defeat. “You weren’t supposed to catch me.”
“Peter Morgan’s daughter.”
“I bet she knows a Franklin Prescott,” Gracie said.
“My uncle.” Jamie didn’t look up.
Dungar helped her to her feet while keeping a firm grip on her arm. “Caught in the act.”
Jamie refused to meet our eyes, her gaze fixed on the ground as Sel retrieved the cage and secured the luminook pen once more.
