Chapter 30

THIRTY

Hatch moved through the dense woods, her steps measured and quiet, unlike the questions swirling in her mind. The early morning sun barely penetrated the thick canopy overhead, casting dappled shadows on the wet ground. The forest smelled of damp earth and pine, the remnants of last night’s rain clinging to the leaves. She could feel herself closing in on Bishop. The fresh blood smeared on the foliage confirmed it.

Tuck had remained back at the Hartwell house, tending to the family. She knew she would be faster without him, but the added value of having another gun on her side wasn’t lost on her.

Her phone vibrated softly in her pocket. Without slowing, she pulled it out and saw the incoming call was from Tracy. She tucked behind a moss covered tree and answered.

“Got an update on Bishop.” She continued to can her surroundings for any sign of movement. “I’m in pursuit. His trail is fresh—he’s wounded.”

“Good.” Tracy was tense. “Once you locate him, do not engage.”

“I thought I was tasked with bringing him in.”

“Orders have changed. Containment is your primary objective now. Don’t let him get away.”

“And then what?”

“The General is sending a team to handle it.”

Hatch frowned, suspicion crawling up her spine. “Handle it? What does that mean?”

“It means how it sounds.”

”You’re telling me that Thorne is sending a hit squad to take out Bishop?”

“You’re not one for mincing words.” Tracy let out a frustrated sigh. “Look, I don’t like this anymore than you. But Bishop’s a threat. The powers that be feel he’s too dangerous.”

Hatch let the thought marinate. “Is this what my future holds? A couple ops get a little dicey and Talon sends in a clean-up crew?”

“Not gonna happen. Not on my watch.”

“What happens when you’re not watching?”

“No time for this train of thought.”

A long silence stretched across the line. Then Tracy spoke again, this time his voice flat. “Remember, not my call. This tasking is coming from the top.”

Her jaw tightened. “And I’m supposed to report directly to Thorne now?” She couldn’t mask the disdain in her voice.

Before Tracy could respond, a familiar voice cut through the static, calm but laced with an edge. “Listen, Hatch,” Banyan said. “Something about this stinks. Watch your six. Trust your instincts. This runs deeper than even we know.”

The line went dead, leaving Hatch in the eerie stillness of the forest. She shoved the phone back in her pocket.

She pushed deeper into the woods, her senses on high alert. The air was cool and damp, with the lingering trace of rain-soaked decay. Hatch slowed as she reached a section of disturbed ground, the leaves overturned, and the dirt scuffed in a way that set her on edge. She knelt, her sharp eyes scanning the pattern of the tracks. Bishop’s, no doubt.

Her fingers traced the edge of a print, noting its depth. The left boot’s indentation in the muddy surface was deeper. He’s favoring his right leg. Hatch’s eyes followed the uneven spacing of the prints, the shortened gait confirming her suspicion. The injury’s catching up with him.

She straightened, her grip tightening on her weapon as she scanned the dense woods ahead. Wounded doesn’t mean harmless. A cornered predator is the most dangerous kind.

Her muscles tensed as she rose, her eyes flicking through the trees, listening for any sound that might betray his position. Every fiber of her being was tuned to the forest, the stillness pressing down on her like a physical weight.

Then, in the quiet, she heard it. A twig snapped off to her left.

In one fluid motion, Hatch spun toward the sound, her Glock raised, finger hovering near the trigger. Her eyes locked on the front sight, every instinct screaming for her to act. Her breath slowed, and time stretched out, her entire focus zeroed in on the movement behind the trees.

A deer stared back at her. Its large brown eyes blinked, innocent and unaware, as it stood frozen in place, watching her.

Hatch let out a slow breath, lowering her weapon as the tension in her muscles relaxed, but the unease remained. The deer lingered for a moment longer, then darted off into the underbrush, disappearing into the shadows as quickly as it had appeared.

Her pulse pounded in her ears, but she forced herself to refocus. The ground around her was disturbed. Bishop had definitely come this way. She crouched again, looking at the blood-streaked dirt.

The air was thinner as she ascended the ridge, her breath steadying with the climb. She slowed, her senses on high alert. Something was wrong. The forest was too quiet now, too still. The faintest shift of the wind sent a prickle down the back of her neck.

Then, a faint rustle came from behind her, the sound of leaves shifting against the damp forest floor. It was too deliberate to be the wind, too quiet for anything large. Her breath hitched, and she spun around, her eyes cutting through the dim light.

No deer stared back at her, no animal darted into the underbrush. Just the empty woods, silent except for the faint patter of water dripping from the trees. It was then that she spotted the source.

Bishop materialized from behind a dense network of shrubs. He now stood just a few feet away, his Sig Sauer trained on her chest. His face was pale, his leg gushing blood, his breathing labored, but his eyes were sharp. No doubt about it, this man was a killer.

"You’ve been following me," Bishop rasped, his voice hoarse. "Who sent you?"

Hatch’s gun wasn’t on target. He definitely had the advantage. She slowly canted the front site upward. “How about you lower that thing before I put a bullet in your head?”

“Not my first rodeo. I don’t plan on dying today.”

“Might be out of your hands.”

The thin mountain air and the invisible line in the dirt were all that separated them from life and death.

Hatch wasn’t able to bring her pistol to her eyeline. But the micro adjustments she’d made coupled with the years of range time gave her confidence that she had a shot. Her eyes remained locked on Bishop’s. His on hers. The gun in his hands shook ever so slightly. Time passed slowly during this tense standoff in the middle of the forest. They stood only a few yards apart, each holding the other's life in their hands.

"Lower your weapon," Hatch said.

"You first."

They both knew that wasn’t happening. A moment of silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft rustle of the trees and their own controlled breathing. Neither of them moved.

"Let’s not kid ourselves," Hatch muttered, her index finger taking the slack out of the trigger, stopping at the breakpoint. Her task was to contain him. Wait for the cavalry. The current circumstance was making it incredibly difficult to follow orders. "You fire, I fire. No way I miss."

"I don’t miss," Bishop replied. "Ever."

Hatch’s eyes narrowed, calculating. "Then it looks like we’re at an impasse."

Bishop didn’t falter. "Seems that way."

Hatch searched for an opening, but Bishop wasn’t going to give her one. He was wounded, sure, but still dangerous. They both teetered on a razor’s edge, and a single wrong move would send them tumbling into a lethal exchange of gunfire.

"If we’re both about to die," Bishop said slowly, "we might as well lay our cards on the table."

“Only one of us is about to die.” But time bought opportunity. Facing off against someone of Bishop’s caliber meant that every opportunity counted. "Start talking."

“For starters, how about you tell me who sent you?”

Hatch thought about lying. There’d be no point to it. Her only advantage was the truth. Anything else was a gamble. “Talon.”

“Go figure.” A bitter laugh escaped Bishop’s lips. “Did they tell you why? Or are you just another one of their lap dogs?”

“Definitely no one’s lap dog.” Hatch didn’t like the thought. "They told me you were once an asset. That you decided to market your skills to the highest bidder.”

"So that’s the spin.” His head gave an almost imperceptible shake. “The stories they tell. And you believe them?”

“No reason not to.”

“Really?” He paused long enough to consider his next words. “Let me run another story by you. Then you can tell me which one smells like the truth.”

“I’m all ears.” Hatch made another slight adjustment to her point of aim.

“What if I told you that I hadn’t gone into business for myself? What if I told you this was a sanctioned hit?”

“You’re saying this was a Talon op?”

“Don’t look so shocked.” His gun hand trembled. His face grew paler. “When money’s at stake, the moral compass has a tendency to shift. And when big money’s on the table, that shift is seismic.”

Hatch thought about the intel Tracy and Banyan had shared. The high-value target eliminations. She also analyzed Bishop’s non-verbal tells. Something she’d learned in her years of interrogation. The body spoke louder than words. And everything about Bishop told her that he was telling the truth. Now she was left with the hard decision of accepting it. If she did, where would that leave them?

“Talon doesn’t authorize executions.” She felt the words coming across as hollow, but she needed to buy more time to process.

“They’re the puppet masters. Pulling strings, moving pieces, treating us like disposable assets. Use us until our knowledge becomes a threat."

“You’re saying that’s what happened here? You complete a hit and immediately become expendable?”

“Did it ever dawn on you that your being here might be part of the equation?”

“You’re saying I’m a pawn in all this?”

“Don’t look so shocked. But if you really think on it, you’ll see.”

Hatch replayed the original tasking, the change in orders, the slow piecemeal of information she’d been doled out. All of it originating from one man.

“I can see you’re puzzling it out in your head,” he said. “You know I’m telling the truth.”

“Who ordered the hit?”

“Came from high.”

Hatch’s stomach twisted as the name left her lips. “Thorne?”

“Bingo. And now you’ve been tasked with bringing me in. See how it all fits?” He seemed pleased with himself. “They put you in place. Must’ve known you’d come after me. Slowly manipulating the chessboard, even going so far as to attach you to the local law enforcement. Makes for an easy cleanup.”

“But why all the trouble? You’ve pulled off hits in the past.”

“You have no idea what’s at play here, do you?” Bishop tightened the grip on his weapon. "Thorne’s in bed with Crystal Springs. Has been for years. Buying up land, selling it off, raking in millions while destroying lives.”

“Okay. Doesn’t explain why you targeted Sawyer. Assuming you didn’t miss.”

“Like I said, I don’t miss,” he said coolly. “Sawyer was the target. He had the proof. He was about to blow the whistle—land deals, wire transfers, all of it."

"So they sent you to kill him? Why do it in such a dramatic fashion? Why not make it look like a car accident or something like what you did in Uzbekistan? "

“Ah, so you are familiar with my work?” A slight crack in his otherwise stoic facade cracked. “The senator was losing traction in the polls. The powers that be decided nothing boosts a politician’s ratings more than an assassination attempt. He’s a shoe in for the next term. And that means Crystal Springs can continue to scoop up the water rights. And the money continues to flow.”

“Why send me? Seems like they planned for everything.”

“They did. Every good conspiracy needs a patsy.” He shrugged. “Guess it was my turn. No easier story to sell. I’m sure that they would’ve created a money trail, showing that I’d been paid by some environmental extremist group looking to settle the score. Whatever they come up with, I’m sure the public will buy it. They always do.”

Hatch thought about the ease with which Talon had erased or manipulated the fallout from her operations. Nothing Bishop said rang false. In fact, everything he said made sense. “If you knew all this, why not just pop smoke and disappear?”

“I wasn’t sure until now. Until facing you.”

“Okay. But why not get out of town?”

“Because there was a hiccup.” Bishop’s expression darkened. “Sawyer was talking to a reporter. If that information gets out, it’ll bury them.”

“You have another target.”

“The reporter. A woman by the name of "Maggie Pierce."

The last name on Sawyer’s lips was now a target on Bishop’s. Dots were connecting.

Hatch clenched her jaw. "You’ve done this before? Civilian targets?”

“You ask questions you already know the answers to. You’ve never been given a kill order?”

“Overseas, yes. Even then, it was never a civilian.” Hatch knew the dirty business of war all too well. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise. “And never from Talon.”

“Give it time.” He eyed the gun in her hand. “You sure they didn’t give you that order…for me?”

“Locate and contain only.”

“What do you think they’ll tell you to do once they know you’ve located me?”

She knew a team was inbound. She knew they’d been tasked by Thorne. Hatch could feel the weight of Bishop’s words settling in, each revelation a piece of the puzzle clicking into place. Talon, or the very least Thorne, wasn’t just involved in covering up dirty deals—they were orchestrating the whole damn thing. And she had been an unknowing partner in all of it. Now that she knew, what Hatch did next would define her.

“What does Maggie have that they want?”

"Sawyer made a handoff. A thumb drive containing the damning evidence," Bishop’s voice was growing weaker. The injury slowly draining him. "He apparently gave it to her before I put a bullet in him. Everything’s on it, proof of the conspiracy. If it sees the light of day, Crytal Spring’s empire crumbles. And with it, anyone who’s connected to it.”

“That means Thorne,” she said, more to herself.

“They want her dead before she can do that."

Hatch’s pulse quickened as the reality set in. Talon wasn’t just sending her after Bishop, they were sending her to wipe out anyone who could expose their operation. Bishop, Sawyer, Maggie, they were all loose ends, pawns on a board controlled by people who viewed them as expendable. And now Hatch realized she was now added to the list.

Hatch struggled to read the face behind the gun. "Why take you out before the mission’s complete?”

“Guess they have other plans. Bet you didn’t know that Reeves is a former Talon guy.”

Hatch’s reaction betrayed her.

“Guess they didn’t tell you that.” He cocked an eyebrow. “I’m sure if you did some digging, you’d find he actually never left Talon.”

It made more sense. His resistance to any of her suggestions. He knew all along. He’s the failsafe. “And now they’re sending another team in.”

Hatch let the information speak truth. “Why me?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” He waited for a beat before continuing. “How do you erase the trail?”

“Bury it deep.”

“Layers upon layers. I kill Sawyer. New target keeps me on location. Can’t disappear. You’re tasked with hunting me down. You start getting close. Instead of giving you the green light, they tell you to hold in place and send in a team.”

“Tracy would never?—”

“Probably right. My guess is that Tracy knows about as much as you.” Bishop gave a sigh of resignation. “Kill the killer, then kill the killer’s killer.”

“And the clean up?”

“C’mon. You’ve been in the organization long enough to see how easily they can dust off an op. Like we were never there.”

“How would you write the ending?”

“Look at us right now. Standing here with our guns pointed at each other. You shoot me, I shoot you. I’m the villain and you’re the fallen hero. Either way, all traces are erased.”

“And what about Maggie?”

“I’m sure the alternate has already been called into play. Reeves is probably closing in on her as we speak, if he’s not already finished her off.”

Hatch understood why she’d been sent. The cold truth settled over her. “Thorne is going to erase us both,"

Bishop shrugged. "Welcome to the expendables club."

For a moment, the forest was eerily still, the tension between them palpable. Neither lowered their weapon, but something had shifted. They weren’t enemies anymore. Just two people caught in the same web, marked for death by the same people who had once commanded their loyalty.

"So what’s the play?" Hatch asked, her mind already running through possible escape routes, alliances forming in real time.

Bishop lowered his gun just slightly, enough to signal the beginning of a fragile truce. "We find Maggie. We protect her. And then we burn Crystal Springs to the ground."

Hatch reluctantly agreed. They were no longer on opposite sides of this fight. The rules had changed, and she wasn’t about to play by the old ones anymore.

"Looks like we’re in this together," Hatch said.

Bishop’s eyes remained sharp despite the weariness etched in his face. "Guess so. But make no mistake. It’s survival of the fittest and I’ll kill anyone who gets in the way. And this team they’re sending will be a Tier One asset."

Hatch lowered her Glock just a fraction. “If we can’t outgun them, then we’ll have to outwit them.”