Page 143 of Trailing Justice


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Each stride sent a dull, insistent ache radiating upward from his knee. He could push through it. He’d pushed through worse.

But the pain was there, and it was slowing him.

He glanced back and saw the man was still on the ground, still dazed.

Perfect.

Wyatt cut hard to the left and spotted a granite outcropping rising out of the snow ahead of him. He pushed toward it, rounded the far side, and pressed his back against the cold rock.

He stayed still and listened.

The footsteps had spread out. He heard the men moving through the trees around him—not right on top of him, but close enough.

He waited until his breath was steady.

Then he angled himself and looked back through a gap in the trees toward the road.

The truck was moving.

Relief spread through him. At least Kori and the others were getting away. That was what mattered.

Then brake lights flared red through the snow.

His stomach dropped.

More figures had rushed in from the sides, cutting across the road in front of the truck and closing the gap. The truck stopped, and Wyatt’s chest tightened.

He could see at least four people surrounding it from where he stood.

He’d hoped that Kori would break through before those men blockaded the road again.

His plan hadn’t worked.

His hands balled into fists, the motion so tight his muscles screamed.

The footsteps in the woods had slowed. He knew the men were regrouping somewhere behind him.

He didn’t have much time.

He needed to loop back around. To get back to Kori and the others.

Then a new sound cut through the trees.

Tires. On gravel and snow.

He went still.

Had The Remnant sent backup?

No . . .

It wasn’t one vehicle, he realized. It was many—the sound layered and steady, coming up the logging road from below.

He pushed off the rock and moved toward the road, ignoring his knee, weaving through the last stretch of trees until he reached a break in the tree line and stopped.

It wasn’t more members of The Remnant.

A column of law enforcement vehicles pushed through the snow, light bars cutting through the gray morning, steady and fast and unmistakable.