Page 25 of Searching for Valor

Oh, God. Had they found a body? Her stomach revolted at the thought, and she had to swallow hard to avoid revisiting her breakfast. “What is it?”

“Trail cams. The owner of this resort has them set up all around the property.”

Rylan frowned. “And he didn’t think to mention this until now?”

Shane’s mouth twisted. “He claims he forgot.”

“Forgot?” Rylan echoed doubtfully.

“Yeah. My guess? He’s up to some shady shit—probably poaching. But that’s not the point.” Shane’s gaze flicked between them and finally landed on Izzy. “The point is, we’ve got footage from last night.”

The air in the room grew electric, racing over her skin with a prickle of dread. “Show me.”

chapter

eight

The trail camfootage was timestamped just before midnight, the cabin’s exterior bathed in faint moonlight. Grace and Noah were inside, visible through the large front window. Grace moved to the kitchen, her silhouette sharp as she poured something into mugs. The hot chocolate. Noah sat on the couch, his head ducked as if playing on his phone.

Then the shadows moved.

On the edge of the frame, two dark figures emerged from the tree line— silent, smooth, and deliberate. They didn’t rush. They didn’t stumble. They approached with the calm precision of predators stalking prey.

“Pause it,” Zak said.

Pierce, seated in front of the laptop, hit the spacebar, freezing the image. The angle of the camera partially obscured the figures, but there was no mistaking the gear they carried—tactical vests, gloves, and masks.

“Whoever they are, they’re not amateurs,” Donovan said grimly, leaning closer to the screen. Spirit sat at his feet, watching the humans with a quiet intensity. “They’ve done this before.”

“They’re trained,” Zak added. “See their positions? One’s covering the approach, while the other sets up for a fucking breach.”

Breach.

Rylan’s chest tightened, the word dredging up memories he wished he could bury. His eyes stayed locked on the screen, but his mind spiraled back, unbidden, to a night much like this one. A night when everything went to hell.

The desert had been cold, but sweat had slicked his palms inside his gloves as he’d crouched behind the jagged rocks. The compound below had looked almost serene, just like the cabin. Twin guards at the gate. A few lazy patrols. Everything about the scene had screamed routine.

Too routine.

They’d moved in, working like the well-oiled machine they were supposed to be. His pulse had thundered in his ears as the team advanced. Then the shadows had shifted, and he’d seen a tango hefting a grenade launcher to his shoulder. He’d had the fucker in his sights, and he’d hesitated for just a heartbeat, just a blink— because for in all of the years of extreme training, of conditioning his mind and body for battle, he’d never actually killed anyone. And that hesitation was all it took for the world to erupt in chaos. He could still feel the moment the blast tore away his right arm…

Rylan blinked hard, forcing the memory back into the box where he kept it locked away. His throat felt tight, his breathing shallow, his forehead damp with sweat. The footage on the laptop blurred for a moment before snapping back into focus.

“This was a mission for them,” he said, his voice rough.

Shane glanced at him, his scarred brow furrowing, but he said nothing. Rylan wasn’t sure if it was pity or understanding he saw in his former commanding officer’s eyes, but either way, it made his skin crawl.

He exhaled through his nose, clamping down hard on the surge of memories threatening to drown him. As if on its own accord, his gaze searched the room for Izzy. She stood as far away from his teammates as she could while still able to watch the laptop screen. She looked pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if she were trying to hold her emotions in check. But the tension in her posture betrayed her.

When she noticed him watching, she straightened, uncrossing her arms. “Play it,” she said, her voice flat.

Pierce hit the spacebar again, and the figures on the screen moved forward, their motions fluid and purposeful. The one in the lead reached the cabin door, and Rylan’s breath caught, every muscle in his body tensing in anticipation of an explosion. But instead of an explosive breach, the figure simply opened the door and slipped inside without hesitation. The second stayed out front, weapon up and scanning.

Pierce paused it again and signed,”What the hell?”

“It wasn’t even locked?” Donovan asked, incredulous.

“Impossible,” Izzy said instantly. “Grace would’ve locked it. She loves true crime and listens to way too many podcasts to be that careless.”

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