Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“What the fuck are you doing?” I yell at him. “That’s my wallet! Put it down and get me the fucking hand sanitizer.”
“Cole,” Jensen practically growls with warning, stalking toward him.
But Cole’s fingers are fast as he examines everything in my wallet. I had the foresight to leave my badge in my glove compartment but when he pulls out a business card that was stuck beneath others and gasps at it, my stomach sinks with dread.
“FBI?” Cole reads my card, disbelief coloring his voice. “Special Agent Aubrey Wells? Sacramento Bureau.”
The silence that follows is deafening. Jensen stares at me, shock and something else—betrayal—written across his features. Eli’s expression is more calculating, as if pieces of a puzzle are suddenly falling into place. And Red, despite his pain, despite being fucking bitten by his friend, looks at me with new wariness.
“You’re a fucking Fed?” Cole demands, anger rising. “A fucking Fed!? You’ve been lying to us this whole time?”
I meet his gaze steadily, refusing to flinch from the accusation. “I’m on leave. This isn’t an official investigation. I came looking for my sister as a private citizen.”
“Bullshit,” Cole spits. “You’ve been watching us, haven’t you? Gathering evidence? What is this, some kind of sting?”
“Cole, that’s enough,” Jensen says, voice tight. “Put it away and bring us the hand sanitizer. We need to focus on helping Red.” He pauses, looking at Red. “We’re running out of time.”
“How can we trust anything she says now?” Cole demands, waving my gun around. “She could have agents waiting to swoop in, arrest us all!”
“For what?” I ask, wishing he would put it down. “I told you, I’m here for my sister. Nothing more. And, you know what, I’d welcome them. We need all the help we can get with Red right now.”
But Cole’s panic has taken on a life of its own, feeding on the shock and terror of what happened to Red, the brutality and absurdity of Hank’s attack. “This is a setup. Has to be. Why else would a Fed be up here with us?”
I look to Jensen, hoping he’ll understand, hoping he’ll see that this changes nothing about why I’m here, about what I need to find. But his expression has closed off, the tentative trust we’d built once again shattered by this new revelation.
“You lied to me,” Jensen says quietly, the words falling between us like stones. “From the beginning.”
“Like you lied to me,” I counter, unwilling to accept his hypocrisy. “About Lainey. About Adam. About what happened three years ago.”
We stare at each other across Red’s bleeding form, the truth of our mutual deception hanging in the air between us. Outside, the wind picks up, howling around the corners of the hut like a hungry creature seeking entry. Somewhere in the darkness, Hank is out there—changed, dangerous, and hunting.
And inside, we’re already fractured by suspicion and fear, the tenuous alliance that brought us to these mountains crumbling just when we need it most.
They may have just discovered I’m an agent.
But I’ve never felt less prepared in my life.
22
JENSEN
Red’s blood drips onto the floor beside the table, each drop marking the seconds of stunned silence that fill the hut.
FBI.
Special Agent Aubrey Wells.
The words echo in my mind, impossible to process against the backdrop of Red’s labored breathing, Cole’s ragged accusations, and the howling wind outside. I stare at Aubrey, searching her face for any trace of the woman I thought I knew—the grieving sister, the determined stranger who rode onto my ranch waving around her cash with a desperate plea for help.
Was any of it real? Or was it all calculated, a performance designed to infiltrate my life, my ranch, my crew?
She knew about Marcus this whole time.
Aubrey keeps her hands steady on Red’s arm, applying pressure to the wound. Her composure only fuels my suspicion—this professional calm in the face of chaos, the way she took charge of the situation with practiced authority. The fact that she was so adamant about how well she could handle a gun. How did I miss it?
Blinded by her body, I can’t help but think.
And yet I know it was more than that.
It’s been a lot more than that.
And I’m a fucking fool.
“I told you, I’m on leave,” she says evenly. “Forced leave, if you must know. Because I haven’t been well, I haven’t been handling Lainey’s disappearance well. And that’s why I’m here. This isn’t official, they don’t even know where I am or what I’m doing because if they did, I doubt they’d ever let me back on the job. I’m here for Lainey, nothing more.”
“Fuck that,” Cole spits, his face growing red. “Lies. All lies. You’ve been watching us, gathering evidence—”
“Cole, that’s enough,” I interject, though my own mind is racing with similar suspicions. “Put the gun down. Her gun. We need to focus on Red.”