Page 21 of Protector of Talon Mountain

I lock the door. The deadbolt clicks like punctuation, and I lean my back against it. My hands are icy. Not from the air, but from memory.

I go through the motions—light the fire, make a cup of tea I won’t finish, tuck a blanket around my legs as I curl into the old armchair Maggie used to call her ‘thinking throne.’ The wind whistles under the eaves, and somewhere outside, a branch scrapes the siding.

I try to read. Try to lose myself in the pages. But I keep glancing up, expecting something. Dreading something. Wanting something I shouldn’t.

I pick up my phone. My fingers hover over Zeke’s name—just Zeke, nothing else—and for a second, I consider it. Just to say thank you. Or that the cafe has been locked. Or that I’m… fine.

But I don’t text. I put the phone down face-down and bury my hands beneath the blanket.

Fine feels like a lie I’m tired of wearing.

I close my eyes, and Zeke’s voice echoes back—’Now you don’t have to do it alone.’

It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. It was final—a statement of fact. For the first time in years, I think I might want to believe it.

That’s when I hear it. Not the wind. Not the usual creaks of the cottage settling. This is sharper. A scrape. Close. Too close. It sounds like it’s coming from the back, near the kitchen window. My whole body goes still. My breath catches before I can even think.

I stand, slow and silent, the chill of the floorboards pressing into my bare feet. My eyes lock on the hallway as I cross to the hearth and wrap my fingers around the fire poker—solid iron, heavier than it looks. I grip it tight, the weight grounding me. Another noise. Softer this time. Hesitant.

I move carefully, my body coiled tight, every step deliberate. My heart hammers in my chest, but I keep going, because I have to. Maybe Zeke’s right. Maybe this isn’t over. Maybe I’m not alone.

I reach the kitchen, press my back to the wall, and angle myself toward the window. The curtain stirs slightly, but the glass is intact. Nothing moves inside.

Then I hear it again—louder this time, but definitely outside.

I ease toward the window, eyes scanning every shadow, and that’s when I see it. The shutter. One of the hinges has come loose in the wind. It shifts again, slamming lightly against the siding.

I exhale hard, the tension in my chest easing just a little. There’s no one here. No threat. Just wind and wood and nerves stretched too thin.

Still, I keep the poker in my hand a while longer. Just in case.

5

ZEKE

The mayor’s office smells like stale coffee and cheap wood polish. I don’t sit. Hal’s already behind his desk, leaning back like he’s trying too hard to look comfortable, like he thinks if he smiles wide enough, I’ll stop asking questions.

He’s wrong.

I drop the stack of printed photos on his desk. GPS coordinates handwritten across the top page. He doesn’t look at them right away.

“You find something?” he asks, tone light.

“I found activity,” I reply, watching his expression with a sniper’s patience. “Off-trail, unmarked routes through federal land. Fresh tire tracks. A burned-out structure that was occupied in the last forty-eight hours. Looks like a transit point.”

He flips through the photos with a sigh that’s too practiced. “Probably kids. Maybe some local loggers moving gear without permits. Happens more often than you think.”

I let the silence stretch long enough to make him squirm. Then I lean forward, hands braced on the edge of his desk.

“Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Hal’s smile wavers.

“This wasn’t kids screwing around in the woods. The paths are too clean. Too strategic. They follow tactical cover, lead to blind ridges and cut through choke points. You know who moves like that?” I ask, voice low, deliberate. “Someone who knows how to avoid being seen.”

He exhales, like he’s tired of the game he started. “Zeke, we’re a town of a couple hundred people. You think someone’s running a smuggling ring through our backyard with no one noticing?”

“Someone is noticing,” I say, standing upright again. “They’re just too scared to say anything.”

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