Page 104 of Her Redeemed Protector

My phone vibrates with a discrete ping, a call from Chase.

“Visuals on the front gate. Parked on the valley’s far side,out of enemy sightlines. I’m on foot. No equine support,” he reports with a hint of humor.

“I entered from the east. Head toward me, I’m following a trail. Night vision equipped?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“Move fast. Regroup on my signal.”

Chase and I rendezvous in the shadowed terrain. He eyes my minimal gear with a raised eyebrow. “That all you got?” he quips, gesturing at my ballistic vest, the sheathed knife on my belt, and the Glock in my hand, conspicuously lacking a night observation device.

“Just got in from Bogota,” I reply tersely, checking my equipment one last time.

We scrutinize the trail ahead. “This has to lead somewhere,” I murmur, scanning the horizon.

Suddenly, the distinct crunch of boots on dirt halts our conversation.

We immediately drop to a crouch, blending into the underbrush. Chase slips on his goggles. “Six men, positioned on that ridge to the right,” he reports quietly.

Blackwater Brutes. I can almost smell them. They’re the masters of the night, exploiting the darkness to their advantage. No doubt they’re well equipped.

“Any signs of a camp? Lights?” I ask, peering toward the indicated area.

“Negative, but that doesn’t mean they’re just loitering. They could be guarding something beyond that hill,” he speculates, his voice low. After observing the area a bit more, he murmurs, “Damn, these guys. They’re giving me flashbacks to my days as a junior hoodlum.”

Chase often uses his underworld history to lighten tensions, but nobody knows his full story. Some believe the gang exploited his youth to silence many rivals, while otherssuggest he witnessed something truly atrocious.

He then turns to me. “What do you want to do, Comet?”

“Let’s advance,” I decide.

“I’m fully kitted. I’ll keep tabs on them. Ready to intervene if they get twitchy,” Chase assures me, checking his rifle.

“I’ll take the high ground, see what’s behind that ridge. Keep it silent. We can’t tip off whoever’s holding Savannah.”

“SEAL training, Comet. Stealth is in our DNA,” he responds with a ghost of a smile.

I clasp his shoulder briefly, then we split. I angle off the main path, seeking cover where possible, but maintain my course parallel to our target.

I’ve barely covered any ground when the uneasy shuffle of leaves and Misty’s distressed neigh slice through the silence. Her anxiety is palpable, and it doesn’t go unnoticed.

Almost immediately, a shout pierces the night, followed by the sound of approaching footsteps. I can’t leave Misty vulnerable. She’s as much a part of this team as any of us. Rushing back, I find her still tethered and restless. I unfasten her and give her a firm tap on the thigh, urging her to flee into the safety of the darkness. Reluctantly, she turns and gallops away, disappearing into the night.

The guard’s voice carries back to his group as he returns without investigating further. “Just some wild horse,” he dismisses the disturbance. His oversight grants me a crucial moment.

After a tense wait to ensure they’ve moved on, I retrace my steps cautiously. My phone vibrates. It’s Chase, checking in. “What the hell was that?”

“I had to release Misty,” I whisper into the phone, my voice low. “Heading up the ridge now.”

The path steepens aggressively, challenging with each step, but determination pushes me onward. After cresting thehill, a flickering light catches my eye in the distance—an isolated lodge that stands out against the desolate landscape. It pulses with life, contrasting against the surrounding darkness. That has to be it. Savannah has to be there!

But then Chase calls. “Two are on the move! I’m taking them down!”

I hear two thuds behind me. Chase manages to shoot them silently, but it’s a matter of time before the rest of the group finds out the intruder is more than just a wild horse.

42

SAVANNAH

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