Page 60 of Death Valley

“So we just abandon him?” Aubrey asks, incredulous. “Leave him out there to die?”

“If he’s not dead already,” Red mutters.

I shoot him a glare. “First light, we’ll organize a proper search. Follow the trail, see where it leads. But right now, going out there blind is suicide.”

“Jensen’s right,” Eli adds. “Whatever took Hank is still out there. Likely watching the cabin. Waiting for another opportunity.”

“This is insane,” Cole says, pacing the small confines of the cabin. “We need to get out of here. Head back to the ranch at first light. This whole trip has been cursed from the start.”

He has no idea how right he is.

“We’re not leaving without knowing what happened to Hank,” I say firmly.

“The hell we aren’t,” Red counters. “I’m not ending up like him, dragged off into the woods by some…whatever the hell it is.”

The argument escalates, tension that’s been building since Cedar Creek finally erupting. Cole sides with Red, insisting we abandon the search and head back to safety. Eli stands with me, arguing for a measured approach. Only Aubrey remains silent, her eyes moving between us, calculating.

“Enough!” I finally bark, silencing the room. “We stay until first light. Search for Hank. Then make a decision based on what we find. That’s final.”

Red looks like he might argue further, but something in my expression stops him. Instead, he spits on the floor—a deliberate show of disrespect—and stalks up to the loft. I normally solve disrespect with my fists, but this time I let it pass.

After all, it is my fault we’re all here.

I shouldn’t have taken the money.

“You’re gonna get us all killed, McGraw,” Cole mutters before following him, seeming to pick up on what I’m feeling.

Eli remains, his boyish face grave in the firelight. “They’re scared. Can’t blame them, after what we saw.”

“I know,” I sigh, the weight of leadership heavy on my shoulders, leadership I never fucking asked for. “But I’m not leaving a man behind. Not without knowing.”

“What if we already know?” Eli whispers as he leans in, the question loaded with meaning. “What if it’s like last time?”

Last time.

Three years ago.

When I came up here with someone else who was searching for something and I barely escaped with my life.

“Get some rest,” I tell him, avoiding the question. “I’ll keep watch. From inside.”

Eli studies me for a long moment, then nods, heading up to the loft. Aubrey moves to the fire, adding another log. The flames leap higher, pushing back the darkness but not the fear that permeates the cabin.

“You’re not telling them everything,” she says once we’re alone. Not a question but a statement.

“No,” I admit, seeing no point in further deception. “I’m not.”

“Why?”

I take in a deep breath through my nose, before running my hands over my face, feeling exhaustion hit me. “Because the things I know, the things I’ve seen…they wouldn’t believe me. Because the truth is harder to accept than whatever theories they’ve come up with.”

She sits at the table, facing me directly. “Well, you haven’t tried me.”

For a long moment, I consider deflecting, offering the same vague warnings and half-truths I’ve been feeding her since we met. But looking at her now, determination hardening her delicate features, I realize she deserves better. Deserves the truth, as much as I understand it.

But how much of the truth, I’m not sure.

“Something lives in these mountains,” I begin, choosing my words carefully. “Something that used to be human, a long time ago.”

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