Chapter 8

chapter

eight

The trail cam footage was timestamped just before midnight, the cabin’s exterior bathed in faint moonlight. Grace and Noah were inside, visible through the large front window. Grace moved to the kitchen, her silhouette sharp as she poured something into mugs. The hot chocolate. Noah sat on the couch, his head ducked as if playing on his phone.

Then the shadows moved.

On the edge of the frame, two dark figures emerged from the tree line— silent, smooth, and deliberate. They didn’t rush. They didn’t stumble. They approached with the calm precision of predators stalking prey.

“Pause it,” Zak said.

Pierce, seated in front of the laptop, hit the spacebar, freezing the image. The angle of the camera partially obscured the figures, but there was no mistaking the gear they carried—tactical vests, gloves, and masks.

“Whoever they are, they’re not amateurs,” Donovan said grimly, leaning closer to the screen. Spirit sat at his feet, watching the humans with a quiet intensity. “They’ve done this before.”

“They’re trained,” Zak added. “See their positions? One’s covering the approach, while the other sets up for a fucking breach.”

Breach.

Rylan’s chest tightened, the word dredging up memories he wished he could bury. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, but his mind spiraled back, unbidden, to a night much like this one. A night when everything went to hell.

The desert had been cold, but sweat had slicked his palms inside his gloves as he’d crouched behind the jagged rocks. The compound below had looked almost serene, just like the cabin. Twin guards at the gate. A few lazy patrols. Everything about the scene had screamed routine.

Too routine.

They’d moved in, working like the well-oiled machine they were supposed to be. His pulse had thundered in his ears as the team advanced. Then the shadows had shifted, and he’d seen a tango hefting a grenade launcher to his shoulder. He’d had the fucker in his sights, and he’d hesitated for just a heartbeat, just a blink— because for in all of the years of extreme training, of conditioning his mind and body for battle, he’d never actually killed anyone. And that hesitation was all it took for the world to erupt in chaos. He could still feel the moment the blast tore away his right arm…

Rylan blinked hard, forcing the memory back into the box where he kept it locked away. His throat felt tight, his breathing shallow, his forehead damp with sweat. The footage on the laptop blurred for a moment before snapping back into focus.

“This was a mission for them,” he said, his voice rough.

Shane glanced at him, his scarred brow furrowing, but he said nothing. Rylan wasn’t sure if it was pity or understanding he saw in his former commanding officer’s eyes, but either way, it made his skin crawl.

He exhaled through his nose, clamping down hard on the surge of memories threatening to drown him. As if on its own accord, his gaze searched the room for Izzy. She stood as far away from his teammates as she could while still able to watch the laptop screen. She looked pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she were trying to hold her emotions in check. But the tension in her posture betrayed her.

When she noticed him watching, she straightened, uncrossing her arms. “Play it,” she said, her voice flat.

Pierce hit the spacebar again, and the figures on the screen moved forward, their motions fluid and purposeful. The one in the lead reached the cabin door, and Rylan’s breath caught, every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation of an explosion. But instead of an explosive breach, the figure simply opened the door and slipped inside without hesitation. The second stayed out front, weapon up and scanning.

Pierce paused it again and signed, ”What the hell?”

“It wasn’t even locked?” Donovan asked, incredulous.

“Impossible,” Izzy said instantly. “Grace would’ve locked it. She loves true crime and listens to way too many podcasts to be that careless.”

Shane tilted his head in acknowledgment. “Having married into a family of podcasters, I can confirm that true crime junkies, as a species, are very paranoid.”

“Look who’s talking,” Ellie said, nudging her brother-in-law with her elbow.

“Hey, my paranoia has a good cause.”

Yeah, that fucking mission that melted Shane’s once-handsome face and took Rylan’s arm. His metal fingers closed into a fist, and he wanted to put that fist through a wall and see how much damage it could do. Instead, he sent a conscious thought down to the high-tech arm, forcing each finger to open one by one.

“Are you implying our paranoia is unfounded?” Ellie countered, warming up for an argument. If there was one thing Ellie Summers loved more than true crime, it was a debate. “Know why women make up eighty percent of our listeners? Because women are statistically more likely to be stalked and are more likely to die if attacked violently by a man. Our listeners listen to feel safe, to know the kinds of dangers to look out for.” She turned back to the group. “If Grace listens to true crime, she absolutely would have locked the door. She’s a teenage girl in the middle of nowhere with her little brother and a limited phone signal. She locked it. No doubt in my mind.”

Zak walked over to the door and knelt to examine the lock. He ran his finger along the edge, his brow furrowed in concentration. After a moment, he looked up, his expression grim. “No signs of forced entry. Not even signs it was picked.“

Izzy’s face was drained of color, and Rylan took a step toward her instinctively.

She held up a hand. “Don’t. Just… don’t.” She took a shaky breath and turned to Zak. “What are you saying? That someone… let them in?”

Zak straightened. “I’m saying that if the kids themselves didn’t let them in, then someone gave them the key. Where’s Monica?”

Izzy’s lips parted as if she meant to answer, but no sound came out. She shook her head. It was the small, desperate motion of someone who didn’t want to believe the worst of a loved one. “If you’re suggesting she’d kidnap her own children… no. She wouldn’t. She couldn’t...”

“She’s the only other person who could’ve unlocked that door,” Rylan said, his voice coming out sharper than he intended. For once, it wasn’t Izzy who had his nerves frayed and his anger sizzling just below the surface. It was the relentless memories, and he shouldn’t take them out on her.

But he did.

Because she was the easiest target.

And he was an asshole.

Her eyes flashed. “No. You’re wrong. Monica loves those kids more than anything. She would never put them in danger like this.”

“Okay, let’s watch the rest of the video before we jump to conclusions,” Shane said.

Pierce hit play again, and the team watched in tense silence. They couldn’t see what was happening inside the cabin, but seconds later, the man emerged with Noah tossed over his shoulder. The other waited to the side of the door for Grace to appear. She burst outside and took a few steps into the yard, looking panicked, obviously calling out for her brother. The second man grabbed her from behind, clamping a gloved hand over her mouth. She thrashed in his grip, but he was too strong. He dragged her backward, out of frame.

Izzy made a choked noise, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh God...”

The men headed for the tree line. Just before they reached it, a third figure emerged from the shadows. Shorter, slighter. A woman.

The team leaned forward collectively, straining to make out details in the grainy footage.

“It’s not Monica,” Izzy said, but she didn’t sound confident.

“You sure about that?” Rylan challenged, his anger still simmering dangerously close to the surface. “Because the way I see it, she knew something was coming. She sent her kids to that cabin, didn’t she? Then she tells you they’re gone and disappears herself when she should be looking for them.”

Izzy whirled to face him. “That doesn’t mean she’s involved in their abduction. She’s scared of something. She sent them here because she was trying to protect them.” She pointed at the screen. “Trying to prevent this.”

“Or she’s trying to cover her tracks.”

Izzy flinched as if he’d struck her, but her eyes blazed with defiance. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I?” He took a step closer, his voice low and cutting. “I’ve seen plenty of people do terrible things when they’re desperate. You really think your friend’s above that?”

“Yes,” Izzy said firmly, her chin lifting. “Because I know her.”

Rylan barked out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, your judgment hasn’t exactly been stellar lately.”

The words were out before he could stop them, and he instantly regretted it. Izzy’s face crumpled, but she quickly masked the hurt with anger.

“That’s low,” she said quietly. “I made the only decision I could three months ago, and you know what? I’d make it again. Any of you would have done the same if you were put in that position. So all of you can just fuck right off. I’ll find the kids myself.”

She turned and stormed out of the cabin, leaving a tense silence in her wake.

“You shouldn’t have said that,” Zak finally said, his tone devoid of the usual sarcasm.

Rylan exhaled sharply and raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t need Zak to tell him he’d crossed a line. He already knew it.

Shane cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “Let’s focus on what we know. Grace and Noah were taken by professionals who had a key to the cabin. We don’t know Monica’s involvement yet, but she’s missing, and that raises questions.” He turned to Rylan. “You and Izzy need to sort out your shit later. Right now, finding those kids is the priority.”

Rylan clenched his jaw but nodded. As much as it pained him to admit it, Shane was right. His issues with Izzy would have to wait.

“So what’s our next move?” Pierce asked, his brow furrowed as he studied the frozen image on the laptop screen. “Hate to say it, but this shit is above our pay grade.”

Nobody spoke for several seconds.

Finally, Zak groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Fuck. We need to call Ash.”

“He’s gonna be pissed off that we didn’t clue him in sooner,” Donovan said.

“Yeah, when isn’t he pissed off?” He dug his cell phone out of his coat pocket and walked toward the door with Ranger tight on his heels. “I’ll handle him.”