Page 11 of Montana Memory

A quiet beat stretched between us, thick with tension. Then he gave a small nod, tucked the file under his arm, and turned for the door.

“Wait,” I said, stepping forward, panic creeping up my throat. “Can you tell me what those names mean? Is one of them my name?” Had Hunter been mistaken and my real last name was Moyer?

The man didn’t turn around. Didn’t say a word. The door shut behind him with another soft click.

Locked. Again.

I sagged against the exam table, gripping the edge so tightly my fingers ached. I never should’ve come here.

Voices drifted in from the hallway, pulling me from my thoughts. I stilled, inching closer to the door.

“Yeah, I’m here for the transfer,” a man said, his tone clipped, efficient. Professional. “She’s being moved.”

My stomach clenched. Transfer?

“That’s not what I was told,” a nurse countered, irritation creeping into her voice. “We were supposed to wait for the police.”

Police. The word sent ice through my veins.

“There was an email sent out about it,” the man said smoothly. “I’ll wait here while you check.”

A pause. Then footsteps, fading down the hall.

A few seconds later, the door opened. I barely had a moment to process the man stepping inside. White coat. Glasses. Shoulders slumped and unassuming—obviously some sort of doctor. I wondered if I could push him out of the way and run past him. This might be my only chance.

But then before my eyes, the man became someone else. His posture shifted. The stiffness in his stance melted away, the cowed expression gone in an instant.

He straightened, squaring his shoulders, and became the warrior I recognized.

Hunter.

His green eyes locked on mine. My breath hitched.

“You—” I swallowed, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. He looked so different. Sounded different.

“We have to get out of here.” His voice was low, urgent.

I took a step forward, heart hammering. “How did you?—”

“Not now.” He wrapped his fingers around my wrist, firm but not rough, the same way he’d grasped me the night at the cabin. His grip was steady, an anchor against the chaos threatening to pull me under. “We don’t have much time. Let’s go.”

I didn’t hesitate. Didn’t ask questions. Staying here wasn’t an option.

Chapter 4

Hunter

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and bad decisions. The scent clung to my clothes, my skin, worming its way under my nerves like a slow, steady drip of irritation. The low hum of fluorescent lights vibrated in my skull, the steady beep of machines a relentless reminder that I didn’t belong here.

Too many people. Too many eyes. Too much noise.

I exhaled slowly, forcing the tension from my shoulders as I leaned against the cold cinder block wall outside of the room they were holding Jada in. It was an effort, keeping myself loose, staying still when every instinct screamed at me to move. To disappear.

I should’ve done exactly that two days ago.

After dragging her out of that cabin and leaving her at the motel, I should’ve walked away. Ihadwalked away. At least, I told myself I had. Slipping that envelope of cash under her door with that note had been my way of drawing a hard line. This was as far as I went. I wasn’t anyone’s hero. I wasn’t the guy whostuck around. But instead of getting in my truck and leaving the city behind, I’d parked across the street and watched.

Jada had left the room only once, walking to the gas station on the corner, her movements uncertain, hesitant. Like she was afraid of being seen.

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