Page 53 of Protector of Talon Mountain

“Zeke—”

“No,” I cut in, firm but not unkind. “Not negotiable.”

She lifts her chin. “So where am I supposed to go?”

“With Wren.”

“Who?”

“Wren. She’s Caleb’s sister. She knows her way around the woods and dangerous situations.”

That catches her off guard. “Caleb’s sister? Did you know she lived here?”

I nod. “She’s got a cabin about five miles east of town. Wildlife researcher and medic. She keeps to herself, knows the terrain better than most of the men I’ve trained with. She’s smart, fast, and fully stocked. If anything goes sideways, you’ll be safer with her than anyone else.”

Sadie’s quiet for a second. Then, “She knows I’m coming?”

“She will by the time we get there.” I reach for my jacket. “I’ll drop you off. Then I’m meeting Caleb.”

“Zeke—”

“I need to be able to move,” I tell her, stepping close again, lowering my voice. “If I’m thinking about you being alone here, I’m distracted. You want me sharp. You want this done right? You let me put you somewhere I know you’ll be safe.”

Her jaw tightens, but not with anger. With effort. She hates it—being protected. Being watched. She still sees it like a weight. But she nods anyway.

“Okay,” she says. “Wren’s place it is.”

I kiss her forehead, then her mouth. It’s not soft this time. Not rushed either. Just full. Final. Like something I’ll carry with me when I’m walking through the trees, hunting ghosts.

Fifteen minutes later, we’re in the truck. Sadie’s bundled in my flannel and her coat, coffee in a thermos between her palms, legs tucked beneath her like she’s trying to make herself smaller. But she doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t argue. Just watches the road and me, like she’s already thinking ten steps ahead.

“Tell me about her,” she says after a mile. “Wren.”

“Sharp as hell,” I say. “Born with a scalpel in one hand and a field guide in the other. Ran search and rescue ops on Denali before she moved back out here. Left after one of her team didn’t make it back during a blizzard. She doesn’t talk about it.”

Sadie nods, absorbing it all. “She doesn’t like people?”

“She likes animals better. But she’ll like you.”

“Why?”

I glance at her. “Because you don’t make noise unless you have something worth saying.”

She smiles a little, tucking her chin into her scarf. I can still see the worry behind her eyes. But there’s something else too. Trust.

By the time we hit the trailhead that branches toward Wren’s land, I already see smoke curling through the trees—her chimney. She’s up.

I park and kill the engine. “You wait here.”

I jog up the path, crunching frost and pine needles under my boots. Wren’s already outside by the time I get there—lean, tanned skin, in a heavy cable-knit sweater and jeans, her dark braid swinging over one shoulder. Her eyes—same sharp gray as Caleb’s—narrow as she takes me in.

“Trouble?” she asks.

“Maybe,” I answer. “Need a favor.”

Her arms cross. “If it’s about Caleb, I swear to God…”

“It’s not. It’s about her.” I jerk my thumb toward the truck. “Her name’s Sadie. She’s under threat, and I can’t have her out there right now. I need her somewhere tight and guarded.”

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