Page 57 of Protector of Talon Mountain

Because tonight, I need to remind myself why I’m doing this.

Because when I go after Hal, there’s not going to be any more hiding.

I slide the phone back in my pocket and start toward the trail.

“Let’s go,” I say. “It’s almost time.”

Caleb doesn’t ask for what… he knows.

15

SADIE

It’s not until I see the flashing red and blue lights illuminating the façade of Town Hall that I finally believe it’s truly over.

I’m standing at the front of the café—like all the other patrons—with a steaming mug of coffee clutched tightly in both hands, my gaze fixed on the window as if I might miss the moment if I dare blink. But there it is—Zeke, tall and authoritative beside his official Sheriff’s Department SUV, Travis’s red checkered flannel stark against the gray stone of the old church, and Caleb leaning with a casual defiance against his vehicle, arms crossed and jaw set in a determined line. Hal Burton, the former mayor of Glacier Hollow, is in handcuffs, his complexion ashen and his features drawn tight as Nate Barrett guides him down the front steps like a weary man dragging the trash to the curb. He helps Hal into the back of the State’s SUV for the long drive back to Anchorage.

Jenny moves silently through the crowd, not uttering a word. She doesn’t need to. Her actions speak volumes as she weaves between customers, methodically refilling coffee mugs before settling onto one of the bar stools, her eyes bright yet inscrutable. I take another sip, feeling my heart thunder against my ribs, a relentless beat that matches the tension in the air.

It’s more than the arrest that sends shivers down my spine. It’s the profound silence that follows. That rare, hushed stillness that blankets a place when its people collectively realize that the storm has finally begun to lift.

Wren steps into the café, her presence commanding attention as she surveys the room. It’s hard for me to fathom that I’ve lived here for four years without ever crossing paths with her before Zeke took me to her cabin for safety.

“You’ve got a nice little place here. I was sorry to hear Maggie died.” Her eyes land on her brother. “You do know he’s going to be impossible to live with now that he helped bring down a corrupt mayor.”

I don’t respond. Not immediately. Because the truth is, my mind isn’t on the café or even the town. It’s on Zeke. On the way he appeared last night—grimy, streaked with blood, and utterly exhausted—but still so intensely focused, still so irrevocably mine.

He’d texted me two simple words:It’s done.

That was all the message said, but it spoke volumes. And now I’m on the brink of facing a version of this town that hasn’t existed since I arrived—maybe even before. A town where I’m not just the girl with the cinnamon rolls and the quiet smile. I’m the woman who stood her ground. Who spoke her truth, and who has a mountain man at her side, willing to set the world ablaze to protect her.

* * *

Before the morning sun fully rises over Glacier Hollow, I unlock the café door and flip the sign toOPEN, my heart pounding louder than it should. The wind outside bites sharp, swirling flakes into tiny tornados that race down Main Street. The cold has a way of making the town feel smaller, tighter. More fragile.

I’m still adjusting the chairs when I hear the bell above the door ring—clear, familiar. My hands pause mid-movement, breath catching, because I know that sound. I know what it means: someone’s here before the espresso machine has even warmed.

It’s Ada.

She steps inside, bundled in her thick parka, arms crossed tight, face pink from the cold. There’s something in her eyes that grabs me—unshed tears, pride maybe, or just that kind of worn-down hope that’s clung on too long.

“You’re opening, right?” she asks, voice trembling as she steps forward. “Because I didn’t eat breakfast, and I’m starving.”

I smile, heart aching just a little at how much her presence means. “Pick a table, Ada. Coffee’s on me.”

She doesn’t pick a table. She walks straight to me, arms opening wide, and pulls me into a hug so fierce I lose my breath for a second.

“You’re brave,” she whispers against my shoulder. “We all saw it. We didn’t say anything, but you did. You saw it, and you didn’t look away.”

I wrap my arms around her. “I didn’t feel brave. I just got tired of being afraid.”

She pulls back just enough to look me in the eye. “Maybe. But you had heart. Maggie saw that. And that means something.”

Her words hit deep. I blink fast and nod. “Thanks, Ada.”

Behind her, the morning crowd starts to drift in. John and Lydia from the general store shuffle through the door, their gloved hands linked like always. Pete clomps in, his boots knocking snow against the threshold, muttering about frostbite and frozen fish traps. He grunts a hello and pulls me into a bear hug so tight I squeak. The man smells like pine and campfire, but he’s family now. They all are.

The café hums with something different today. Not the same frantic tension that’s been pulsing under every smile. This morning feels… cleaner. Like the town just exhaled for the first time in weeks. Like we’re on the other side of something.

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