Page 128 of Silent Shadows

Instead, he laughs once, then jerks his head toward the door.

“Let’s go,” he says to his crew. He pauses at the door and looks back once. Glancing at Miles, then me.

His gaze lingers too long.

“Watch your back out there,” he says.

The door slams shut behind them.

Silence hangs for exactly three seconds, then Jax exhales.

“Okay,” he says. “That was very hot and I need everyone to know I support violence now.”

Maya throws a peanut at him.

Taylor rubs a hand down her face.

Miles looks at Owen.

Owen looks at Miles. Then cocks his head.

“You seem different.”

Miles blinks. “What?”

“I said,” Owen replies, sliding into the booth like he owns it, “if those footprints you found are accurately identified as Bigfoot’s—” he lowers his voice—“you’re looking in the wrong place tomorrow.”

Owen points toward the map folded beside Taylor’s glass.

“You need to be near Wolf Crossing and the Little Colorado River. There’s a swampy area… where things disappear.”

chapter

seventeen

MILES

I can’t sleep. The bunk creaks under me every time I breathe too deeply, the RV hums with low electrical noise, and in the bunk beneath mine, Owen is snoring in a rhythm that suggests mild demonic possession. He fell back into his rhythms and into his old bunk like it was old times. It’s weird having him back, but he also fits like a missing piece of our puzzle.

But none of that is why I’m awake.

I’m awake because Grant said “Whatever it takes.”

I’m awake because he looked at Daisy when he said it. The lazy drag of his eyes. The way his mouth curled when he called her “podcast girl.” Like she was an accessory. Like he knew her.

My hands curl into fists under the blanket. Then I roll my eyes at myself.

Nothing says stable expedition leadership like lying awake at 3:17 a.m. imagining seven different ways to break a man’s nose.

I release a slow breath and stare at the underside of the bunk above mine.

This is exactly why we said no one could know.

Because I am already compromised.

I protect this team. I always have. Taylor, Maya, and Jax—even when he deserves to be fed to coyotes for his crimes against silence.

But Daisy? Daisy is different.