Page 168 of Silent Shadows

My pulse hammers in my head. Another post. A blurry photo. Trailhead parking with a 4Runner there. Our 4Runner. Too recognizable.

“Oh fuck,” My voice comes out thin. Wrong. This feels wrong. Not exciting. Not like momentum.

I shove back the blanket and climb down too fast.

The RV tilts around me like a series of funhouse mirrors.

Taylor is standing over a map and looks up, concerned, walking towards me with her hands out like she’s going to catch me.

“Whoa, babe,” she says, calming and corralling me like I’m a wild animal. Which is probably what I look like.

I look around, making sure everyone’s there. Maya is inventorying batteries. Owen is in the back making eggs while also mumbling about satellite imagery. I don’t spot Jax, but Miles is near the monitor wall. And for one terrible second, he looks up. The first eye contact since the fight. His whole expression softens instantly. Like relief snuck through before he could stop it.

“You okay, Daisy?” he says quietly.

My throat tightens. I look away first.

“We have a problem,” I say, holding out my phone. Business voice.

Owen comes up from behind me and snatches the phone from me while Taylor puts an arm around me, helping to hold me up. Holding the phone out for everyone, Owen and Taylor start reading.

Miles crosses to be on my other side, too close. Always too close. His shoulder brushes mine. I hate that I want more of his touch.

Taylor swears under her breath. Owen mutters, “Well, shit.”

“What is it?” Maya asks.

Jax opens the door, looking back at the site. “Hey, did you guys notice a bunch more cars here, like, overnight?” He stops when he sees us all, huddled around my phone, our faces serious.

Miles reads faster than everyone else. Jaw tightening, eyes sharpening.

“How many cars are out there? This is an RV park next to a minor trailhead. Logistically, it can’t fit that many more…” Miles is starting to spin out.

Jax shrugs. “There are maybe ten more. I’ll go check them out.” He jogs back down the stairs as Miles turns to me.

“When was that clip posted?”

“A few hours ago.”

He’s already moving—laptop open, scanning routes.

“We need to pull references from the clips,” he says. “Taylor, trail access. Maya, ranger contact.”

I tune out as dread twists in my chest. Ten minutes pass as everyone handles their tasks. I just sit there, frozen in shock.

There’s no accusation or acknowledgment that this is my fault. No banter. No more checking in on me, and it’s just now that I’m realizing how much I’ve liked being thought of. It feels selfish, but it still hurts.

I’m not Miles’s focus. The mission is. And he dove right in, fixing and solving.

I’m back in the fight all over again.

Miles glances toward me, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “You should stay here,” he says.

Something inside me snaps.

“No.”

His brows pull together. “Daisy⁠—”