We don’t hesitate. We’re already running for the SUVs, engines roaring to life, doors ripping open.
I’m in the driver’s seat of the lead SUV in seconds, hands locked around the wheel so tight my knuckles ache. Chase jumps into the passenger seat, face lethal. Rhett and Harlan hop in the backseat. Thorne, Wyatt, and Boyd pile into the second vehicle. Rafe, Silas, and Eli hop into the last SUV.
Wyatt’s voice cracks through comms. “Van heading west—County Road 12 toward the old logging route. They’re trying to lose us in the trees.”
“They won’t,” I growl. I slam the SUV into gear and launch forward. The tires bite the snow. The vehicle fishtails, then steadies.
The van is ahead, taillights blinking red through the storm like a target.
My heart is beating so hard I can taste it. I don’t remember breathing. All I can think is:Get to her. Get to her. Get to her.
Chase is already on the radio. “Silas—intercept! We’re in pursuit. White van, westbound. Kayley is in it.”
Silas’s voice comes back, sharp. “Copy. I’m two minutes out from the logging route intersection. I’ll block.”
The FBI vehicles fall in behind us—sirens muted, lights off. Quiet pursuit. Because we’re not chasing a speeder. We’re chasing monsters.
The van hits a bend and accelerates, trying to shake us.
I push harder.
Snow blasts across the windshield. My wipers fight for their lives. The road is slick and narrow, trees crowding in, darkness pressing close like a fist.
Chase glances at me. “You good?”
“No,” I snarl. “But I’m driving.”
He nods, grim. “We get her back. Then we end him.”
My jaw clenches so hard it hurts.
The van swerves around a curve—and suddenly Silas’s vehicle appears ahead, angled across the road like a barricade.
The van slams the brakes?—
Too late.
It clips Silas’s bumper and spins partially, skidding sideways, tires screaming.
“NOW!” Silas roars over comms.
Rafe’s SUV surges forward from behind the van and taps its rear quarter panel—just enough.
A controlled pit.
The van whips around, slides off the road, and slams into a snowbank with a sickening thud.
My SUV stops hard, angled, blocking escape. I’m out before the engine even fully dies. Weapon up. Heart hammering. Brain narrowed to one thing—Kayley.
“Hands!” Rafe shouts as he approaches from the flank.
Boyd moves like death itself, silent and sure.
FBI agents swarm with us, lights snapping on now, flooding the scene in white.
The van doors jerk open?—
One man bolts out with a gun. Boyd drops him fast. Clean. Efficient. No hesitation.
