Page 21 of Guarded from Havoc

Even if we magically escaped from the woods right now, the memories of this awful experience could stick with her for years. A lifetime, even. Night after night of waking up in a cold sweat, heart pounding out of her chest, half-convinced she’s back in the woods, hearing gunfire and terrified screams. The residual flashes of light from the trip wire exploding still burned into the backs of her eyes.

She may never feel safe going out at night again. She might battle panic attacks every time she leaves her house, never fully convinced that she won’t be taken again.

Fuck.

I don’t want that for her.

And it hurts my heart to imagine her suffering. To be separated by thousands of miles—me back in Texas, her in the Adirondacks—and unable to help. To always wonder if she’s okay, if she’s suffering, if she blames me…

Squaring her shoulders, Tatum sucks in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay,” she whispers, “so we keep heading west and try to avoid any more traps or crazy people.”

“Pretty much.” I glance at my naked wrist, gritting my teeth as I look at the pale band where my smartwatch usually is. If I had my watch on, I could figure out where we are. I could message my team. I might even be able to pull up a tiny map to direct us to the safest place to hide until we’re rescued.

But of course whoever took us would remove my watch. I’m just thankful they didn’t think to take my ring, too. Without that, we’d be in a much worse situation, without my team being able to track me at all.

Tatum’s gaze follows mine, first to the untanned band of skin, and then to my finger. “Your team is coming?” she asks softly. “How do you know?”

I start to answer, but a blink of red catches my eye.

My pulse accelerates. All my muscles tense.

Another camera.

It mightjustbe a camera, observing.

Or it could be strategically placed, waiting.

Clamping my arm around Tatum, I pull her close to my side. Slowing our pace, but not stopping, I quickly scan our surroundings, searching for anything that might be out of place. A hint of metal. A flash of light. A trampled patch of grass.

Tatum looks up at me, fear and worry written all over her face.

I give a tiny jerk of my chin in the direction of the camera. The moment she sees the red light, understanding fills her eyes. I can see her fighting the panic trying to break free, the madflutter of her pulse in her neck, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.

For a moment, I worry I made a terrible mistake. That she’s going to freak out and put both of us at risk. Scream. Burst into noisy sobs. Run.

I could knock her out if I have to. If I think she’s going to run headlong into danger, I could use the same move I did on the man we came across just a few minutes ago. It wouldn't be ideal, having to carry her, but if the alternative is Tatum getting hurt, I’ll do it.

I don’t want to, though. Right now, she trusts me, at least somewhat. But if I use my size and strength to control her, not only will I lose her trust, but I’ll scare her.

For a second or two, I’m not sure which way it will go.

Then she sucks in a low, steadying breath. Visibly reins in her panic. Her gaze moves through the trees—these damn trees, hiding everything—before settling back on me.

“Another trap,” she whispers. “That’s why the camera is there. Watching and waiting.”

“Maybe.”

But if there is, where would it be? And what?

Another tripwire, hidden just ahead in the grass? A mine buried just beneath the soil, waiting to be triggered? An automatic rifle tucked in the V of two branches, ready to fire as soon as a target comes into view?

Fuck. I hate not knowing.

On our ops overseas, at least I had an idea of what to expect. Mines. Bombs. A tango waiting around a corner, ready to attack. But this…

The danger could be anywhere. And it could come from practically anything.

I’m hesitant to move forward without knowing if we’re walking straight into a trap. But if we stay put, that could be just as dangerous, too.

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