Page 43 of Property of Mercury

Sutton walks over to me, tears streaming down her cheeks and states, “They’re gone.”

“Yes,” I reply. “Now the waiting begins.”

We walk back into the house. It feels different now, emptier. The maps are still on the table, marked with the coordinates of the death trap they found. I look at them, then at the silent phone sitting in the center of the table.

“Let's get the house locked up,” I say, my voice steadying. “We've got a job to do, even if we're not the ones on the bikes.”

We move through the rooms, closing windows and locking doors. It feels like a ritual, a way to seal our little world off from the nightmare outside. By the time we finish, the house is completely dark save for the small lamp on the desk near the transmission radio. We got a crash course on how to use it, which is good because I’m not the most technologically proficient person on the planet.

I sit down in the chair by the radio, my eyes locked on the telephone. The minutes tick by, long and agonizing. Every shadow in the room seems to shift, every creak of the house sounds like a footstep.

“I'm going to check the perimeter again,” I say, standing up.

“You just checked it,” Sutton reminds me.

“I know,” I say. “It makes me feel better.”

I walk through the house, my hand trailing along the wall. I think of Mercury, moving through the deep woods with Lelanie leading the way. I imagine them creeping along the ridgelines, watching for traps, navigating the maze of the forest. I hope they're careful. I hope they know how much I need them to succeed. I return to the desk and pick up my notebook. I start writing, cataloging every detail I can remember about the men who held me. I want to be ready when the chief calls. I want to be the one who gives them the piece of information that finally tears this whole organization down. The house is quiet, but my mind's a storm. I can see the hunters waiting in the dark. I can see the traps laid in the dirt. I can see the danger closing in around the men I love. I hold my breath, listening to the silence, praying for the sound of the phone, praying for the return of the pack. The darkness outside is total. There's no moon, no light, just the vast, uncaring wilderness. Somewhere out there, the hunt's beginning. And I'm here, holding the line, watching the clock, waiting for the world to turn back to the way it was.

I lean back in the chair and look at the ceiling. The radio emits a faint, constant static. It's a lonely sound. I close my eyes and imagine Mercury, his face set, his eyes sharp, moving through the trees like a ghost. He's out there, and he's fighting for us.

“Come home,” I whisper into the empty room. “Come home to me.”

The night drags on. The static on the radio is the only thing keeping me grounded. I watch the phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for the voice of the chief, waiting for the end of this nightmare. I'm the one waiting, but I'm not just a bystander anymore. I'm part of this. I'm in the fight.

And I'll be here, wide awake, until the sun rises and they ride back into the yard.

The silence of the clubhouse is deep, but it's not empty. It's filled with the weight of the mission, with the ghosts of the past, and with the hope of the future. I'm waiting, but I'm ready. I'm ready for the call. I'm ready for the truth. And I'm ready for them to come back, so we can finally, once and for all, finish what we started. I lean forward, the glow of the desk lamp illuminating the map on the table. The trail to the meeting point is marked clearly.

Lelanie's leading them now. She knows the land better than anyone. I trust her. I have to trust her. She's their eyes now. She's the one who'll lead them through the maze of the mountains. I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. I'm Finley, and I'm a survivor. I'm the one who saw the hunters, and I'm the one who'll see them brought to justice.

The chase is on, the hunters are now the prey, and we're the ones who're going to win it. I pick up my pen, ready to write down the next chapter. The silence in the house is broken only by the scratching of my pen on paper, a steady, rhythmic sound that keeps the fear at bay. I keep writing, keep planning, keep waiting. The dawn's coming, and with it, the answers. I'm ready. I'm waiting. And I'm not going anywhere.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-EIGHT

Mercury

We rendezvous with Lelanie at Daniel’s designated coordinates. Rather than hitting the bunkers, which are already mapped out for a later pass, we push onto reservation property to inspect the caverns on the Blackfeet side of the mountain. Lelanie leads the way without a word, her boots barely disturbing the pine needles on the forest floor. She moves with a fluid grace that makes our heavy tactical gear feel clumsy by comparison. I keep my eyes on her back as we navigate the dense brush. She stops at a ridgeline where the trees thin out and the mountain face scars the horizon. A deep split in the rock reveals the entrance to the Blackfeet caverns. It is narrow, barely wide enough for one man to squeeze through, but the air flowing out is cool and smells faintly of wet limestone.

“It goes deep,” Lelanie says, her voice barely a whisper in the mountain wind. She doesn’t look back as she slides into the gap with the ease of a predator entering its den. We follow, one by one. I’m second in line, my rifle held at the low ready. The transition is brutal. The bright mountain light dies the second I cross the threshold. I flip on my light. The beam cuts through the thick, stagnant air, revealing walls that shimmer with moisture. “Watch the floor,” Lelanie warns, tapping a spot on the ground where the rock slants at a wicked angle. “There are holes here that go down for miles. You slip, you do not come back up.”

I nod, stepping carefully. “You know this place well?”

She glances back, her eyes reflecting my flashlight for a second. “My grandfather taught me every vein of this mountain. It breathes. You have to listen to it.” I feel a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature. She is not just a guide. She is a part of the land. We move deeper, and the acoustics change. Every step echoes, making the cave sound like it is filled with unseen people. Gemini signals for a halt. He points at the wall. I look closer. There is a series of scratches near a protrusion of quartz. Not animal claw marks. These are man-made. Someone has used a tool to wedge themselves a foothold.

“They’ve been here,” I claim, my throat tight.

Lelanie kneels, running her hand over the dirt near the wall. She stands up and points to a discarded cigarette butt pressed into the mud. It is fresh. “They are careless,” she remarks, her voice devoid of emotion, her expression disgusted. “They think the mountain hides them, so they stop being quiet. They stop being hunters.”

The realization hits me hard. These people are in here right now, or they were here hours ago. I motion for the guys to tighten the formation. We are not just explorers anymore. We are prey if we are not careful. I see Pisces checking his sidearm, his movements calm but fast. We’re deeper than I expected. The tunnel branches off into three distinct directions. “Left,” Lelanie directs us without any hesitation whatsoever. “That is where the air flows from the lower chambers. If they are hiding supplies, that is where they put them.”

“How can you be sure?” I ask.

“Because the elements of the mountain tell me,” she says. We push forward into the dark, ready for whatever awaits us.

As the cavernous walls open up into a wider pathway, Midas squeezes through us and shuffles his way to Lelanie’s side, as if he’s drawn to her charisma and can’t resist being beside her. Gemini gives me a knowing look, one that says those two will be hooking up, and I shrug my shoulders in response. Can’t keep people apart who are drawn to each other. As soon as he reaches her, the two of their heads navigate toward each other’s, nearly touching as they talk in low murmurs and communicate in hand signals.