Page 79

Calculation.

The kind drilled into me overseas until instinct became survival.

Wind shifts through the trees, carrying sound with it, and suddenly I’m back in desert heat instead of mountain snow, blood in my mouth, smoke filling my lungs while radio chatter screams through my headset.

Move.

Find them.

Get there first.

I force the memory down hard and keep moving.

Fast now.

The storm works against me, snow swallowing tracks almost as quickly as they’re made, but whoever took her isn’t mountain trained. He’s cutting through low ground instead of elevation cover, breaking branches, leaving drag marks where Nora fought him.

Good.

Means she didn’t give in easy.

That thought does something ugly to me.

I move harder through the woods, rifle strapped across my back while adrenaline burns through every nerve ending. The wind howls louder the deeper I go into the timber, but underneath it, I catch something else.

Voices.

Ahead.

Close.

I kill my flashlight instantly and move silent through the trees.

The abandoned ranger station comes into view through blowing snow.

And then I see her.

Nora’s shoved against the side of the building, wrists zip-tied in front of her while some bastard grips her jaw hard enough to bruise.

Everything inside me snaps.

The guy’s talking, too focused on her to notice me moving through the storm behind him.

“You were always going to end up with me,” he’s saying quietly. “You just picked the wrong man first.”

Nora’s eyes flick past him.

Find mine.

And something raw hits my chest when her entire expression changes.

Relief.

Not panic.

Not fear.

Relief because I came for her.