Page 28 of Nate Hayes

Then I vanished into the trees.

The forest swallowed me whole. Moonlight filtered through the canopy in broken streaks, but I didn’t need it. My eyes were locked on the direction the scream came from. My ears tuned to every sound. My pulse had slowed—SEAL calm. Predator still.

Something moved ahead.

Soft. Quick. Darting.

I followed.

Branches whipped against my arms. A root nearly took my ankle, but I kept going. Breathing steady. Quiet as death.

Another cry echoed through the night—closer now.

I paused beside a thick tree trunk, crouching low. That’s when I heard it.

Voices.

Men. Two of them. One laughing, the other cursing.

“She keeps fighting me,” one said in Italian-accented English. “Little brat scratched me.”

“You want me to hit her again?” the other asked.

My vision narrowed.

Rage, pure and cold, slid through my veins.

Not on my watch.

I crept closer, inch by inch. The girl was tied to a tree, hands bound, blood on her lip. She looked like Siena, but younger. Fiercer. Her eyes blazed even as her whole body shook.

One of the men turned, a cigarette dangling from his lips. That was his last mistake.

I surged out of the dark like a ghost.

Two shots.

One in the knee. The other in the shoulder.

The man dropped like a stone, screaming.

His buddy spun, raising his weapon—but I was already there. I slammed into him, drove my elbow into his throat, twisted his wrist, and disarmed him in one smooth move. He went down gasping, and I left him that way.

I dropped to my knees beside the girl. “Hey—hey, it’s okay. I’m Nate. I’m a Navy SEAL. Your sister sent me.”

Her eyes widened. “Siena?”

“She’s safe. Waiting for you.”

I cut the ropes with my knife and pulled her into my arms.

“I got you,” I whispered.

And I meant it.

I carried her through the forest, the adrenaline still thick in my blood. She clung to me like a lifeline, whispering over and over, “You really came.”

“Damn right I did.”

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