Page 81 of Silent Shadows

Miles’s jaw tightens. Looking between them, I understand something unsettling: This man isn’t dangerous because he’s smarter than Miles. He’s dangerous because he’s an idiot, and he wants attention more than the truth.

“Please leave, guys,” Miles says calmly.

Grant laughs again.

Then one of the Ridgefield crew members starts backing an ATV down the trail carelessly fast. Too fast.

The ATV fishtails hard against the loose gravel.

Miles reacts instantly, an arm coming out in front of me.

“HEY!”

Too late.

The driver guns the engine like he’s filming a stunt reel instead of operating heavy machinery with two functioning brain cells. The back tire catches a rut in the trail and sprays dirt and rock violently outward, and the ATV slams sideways into a fallen pine hard enough to crack part of the frame.

Metal screeches. The guy laughs from behind the wheel. Actually cackles.

“Oh my God,” I blurt.

Miles’s entire body goes rigid beside me. Not fearful. Controlled and ready. Like a lion waiting to pounce.

The driver hops off the ATV grinning like this is all one big joke while his buddies crack up behind him.

“Little slick out here!”

Miles stares at the bent frame for one long second before looking back up at them.

“You’re idiots,” he states.

Grant smirks. “Careful, little Adler. You sound emotional.”

And there it is again. That weird little shift in the air every time they talk to him.

Like they know exactly where to poke.

Miles steps slightly in front of me without seeming to realize he’s doing it.

Tiny movement. Clear instinct. Protective. Grant notices too. He looks between us with this ugly little grin.

“Ohhh,” he drawls. “Now I get it.”

“Get what?” I snap.

“This isn’t research anymore.” He looks at Miles. “This is like a sexy little field trip.”

Miles doesn’t react. That somehow makes him scarier. But Grant keeps going anyway because apparently self-preservation skipped him at birth.

“You know she’s laughing at you, right?” he says casually. “All those entertainment people do. They come out here, get their dumb little footage, make you look crazy, and laugh all the way to the bank. Better to lean into it. It’s made us loads of cash,” he winks, running a tongue over his yellow teeth.

I hate this. Because for half a second, half a horrible second, I can see the thought hit Miles too.

The fear underneath belief. That everyone sees him as a joke eventually.

“You done?” Miles asks, bored but coiled tight enough to strike.

Grant shrugs. “Just trying to help you out.”