"Teams are as follows," Sawyer announces, taking natural command. "Elias and Boone take the eastern perimeter where the tracks were found. Luke and I will sweep north and west. Finn and Cade take the southern approach and the access road. Check in every thirty minutes, maintain tactical silence otherwise."
We all nod, accepting our assignments without question.
"If you find him," Sawyer continues, his voice hardening, "do not engage alone. Call for backup. We take him together, alive if possible."
"And if not possible?" Boone asks the question we're all thinking.
Sawyer's eyes meet mine, and I see understanding there. Permission for what might become necessary. "Then we make sure he never threatens anyone again."
It's as close to a kill order as my sheriff brother will ever give. The acknowledgment that some threats can't be contained, some dangers can't be allowed to persist.
If Vance forces our hand, if he makes capture impossible or creates a situation where Nova remains in danger, we have tacit approval to end him.
The knowledge should disturb me more than it does. I was CIA, not an assassin. I operated within parameters, followed rules of engagement, maintained the thin veneer of legality that separated what I did from murder.
But when it comes to Nova's safety, those distinctions feel meaningless. I would kill Robert Vance with my bare hands and sleep soundly afterward if it meant she never had to fear again.
"Move out," Sawyer orders, breaking my dark thoughts. "Radio check at position one."
We disperse in pairs, moving through the cabin's multiple exits to avoid creating an obvious pattern. Cade and I take the south trail, slipping into the forest with the silent efficiency of men who have spent their lives in these mountains.
For the first mile, we maintain complete silence, communicating with hand signals and the unspoken understanding that comes from years of shared training. The forest embraces us, familiar territory that offers a thousand hiding places for predator and prey alike.
"You're in love with her," Cade says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper but still startling in the quiet.
"Not the time, Cade."
"Never going to be a better time." He moves alongside me, eyes constantly scanning our surroundings even as he pushes a conversation I don't want to have. "We're hunting a man who might try to kill us. Seems like a good moment for honesty."
I don't respond, focusing instead on a broken branch about twenty yards ahead. Fresh break, recent passage. I point it out to Cade, who nods and adjusts our approach accordingly.
"She feels the same way," he continues as if I'd engaged with his original statement. "It's obvious in how she looks at you. How she stays in your orbit. How she fought you on the panic room plan."
"Drop it," I growl, irritation flaring. "We need to focus."
"I am focused. On making sure my brother doesn't do something stupid because he's not being honest with himself about what's really at stake here."
I stop walking, turning to face him fully. "What do you want me to say, Cade? That I have feelings for her? Fine. I do. That I made love to her last night and it meant more than just sex? It did. That it's complicated? It is. That I don't know what happens when this is over? I don't. Happy now?"
"Getting there." He meets my glare without flinching. "Now tell me you're not planning to do something suicidally heroic if we find Vance."
The accusation hits closer to home than I'd like to admit. Because part of me has been considering exactly that. Finding Vance alone. Dealing with him permanently. Keeping my brothers' hands clean while ensuring Nova's safety in the most direct way possible.
"I'm not an idiot," I say instead of answering directly.
"Didn't say you were. Said you're in love, which is a different kind of stupid sometimes." His expression softens slightly. "Look, I get it. When I met Harper, I would have burned down the world to keep her safe. But you've got to think beyond today, beyond Vance."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning what kind of future are you planning with Nova? She going to live in your fortress on the mountain? You going to follow her to LA and be her security detail while she records albums and does world tours?"
The questions I've been avoiding since the moment I realized my feelings for her had become something I couldn't control. The practical realities that exist beyond the immediate danger, beyond the intensity of what we've found in each other during this crisis.
"I don't know," I admit finally. "We haven't gotten that far."
"You need to." Cade starts walking again, forcing me to follow or be left behind. "Because if you're risking your life based on feelings you haven't even fully acknowledged, that's not fair to her. Or to yourself."
He's right, and I hate it. Hate that my brother is lecturing me about emotional maturity. Hate that he's forcing me to confront questions I've been deliberately avoiding.
