Page 136 of Silent Shadows

Daisy comes up beside me. “They were already here.”

“Or close.”

Maya points toward a tree trunk. “Camera mount.”

There’s a fresh scrape on the bark where a trail camera was either placed or removed.

The back of my neck prickles. Grant isn’t just talking. He’s hunting.

He’s either sloppy, or he wants us to know.

I scan the trees, the slope, the tangled brush.

“We’re leaving,” I say.

Taylor looks at me. “Miles.”

“We got the print. We got the brush. We got enough.”

“There may be more farther in.”

“There may also be four men waiting for us farther in.”

Taylor holds my gaze for one long second, then nods.

“Pack it up.”

No one argues.

That is how I know they’re really angry.

The rain starts on the way back.

Of course it does.

A cold, needling drizzle turns the ground into something vindictive. The trail pools with water, tracing the edge of a ridge that drops off fast and hard to our right—one misstep from a dangerous fall. The slope grows slick. Twice, Jax nearly goes down and saves himself while making noises I’m not convinced are human.

Then Daisy slips.

Not a little.

One moment she is behind me, muttering something hostile about nature. The next, her boot skids on a slick patch and her feet go out from under her.

She hits the ground hard, and is already sliding—toward the edge. I’m moving before I think.

I reach down, grasping for anything. My fingers close around her pack strap—fabric, not skin. I don’t have a hold on her, not really, just enough. My boots catch in the mud, skidding, catching, skidding again. For one endless moment I stop breathing, her weight straining against my grip, my boots bracing against gravity by the force of blind luck. Then we stop.

She reaches up to grasp my forearm, a shaky breath bursting out of her.

Her eyes are wild with fear and relief. Mud coats one side of her leg from knee to hip. Her hand is scraped.

My heart slams against my ribs as I pull her to her feet. Behind her, a broken branch juts up from the rocks below. I don’t let my mind go there. I can’t.

“Daisy.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding.”