Page 22 of Keeper of Talon Mountain
"They're protecting you too," Zara points out, finally looking at me. "Whether you planned on it or not."
The words lodge in my chest, warm and uncomfortable. Less than a week ago, I didn't even know my own name. Now I have a community willing to put themselves in danger to protect me.
"I need to check the perimeter." The restlessness is getting worse. "Get a feel for the sight lines before dark."
Mara's hands still in the dough. "Take the radio. And Gabe? Don't go far."
The radio clips to my belt. I tuck Zeke's borrowed handgun into my waistband and pull my jacket over it. The knife is already in my boot.
Outside, the afternoon light is beginning to fade—winter days are short this far north—and the temperature is dropping fast. My breath fogs in the air as I walk the property line, my body automatically cataloging defensive positions and approach vectors.
The lodge sits in a natural bowl—three sides of forest, one steep rise toward the mountain. Private. But indefensible if they come in numbers. Too many places for attackers to hide, too many angles to cover. If the people hunting me come in force, we'll be badly outnumbered.
A cluster of boulders catches my attention—good cover, decent sight lines to the main approach. I'm examining the angles when the radio crackles.
"Gabe." Nate's voice, sharp and controlled. "We've got movement on the north trail. Single individual, approaching on foot. Not trying to hide."
My pulse kicks up. "Description?"
"Male, six feet, dark clothing. Moving like he knows exactly where he's going."
Already moving, I head back toward the lodge at a fast jog. "Keep eyes on him but don't engage. I'm coming to you."
"Copy that."
Mara meets me at the door, her face pale. She heard the transmission. "What do we do?"
"You stay inside. Lock the doors, arm the security system." I check the borrowed handgun Zeke left with me—loaded, safety on, one in the chamber. "Where's Zara?"
"Right here." Zara appears from the kitchen, her own weapon—a compact 9mm I didn't know she had—held with surprising familiarity. "And before you tell me to hide, remember I grew up in Anchorage. I know how to handle myself."
Zara's already moving before I can argue. "Fine. You watch the east approach. Anything moves that isn't on our comm network, you call it in. Do not engage alone."
She nods and moves to the window with practiced efficiency.
The radio crackles again. "Subject has stopped at the tree line. He's... he's just standing there. Watching the lodge."
"Can you see his hands?" I ask.
"Negative. Too many trees in the way."
I move to the front window, staying back from the glass. Through the trees, I can barely make out a dark shape. Human-sized. Motionless. Just watching.
"This is a message," I say. "He wants us to know he's there."
"Why not just attack?" Mara's voice is steady despite the fear I can see in her eyes.
"Because they're professionals. They're gathering intelligence, testing our response time, seeing how we organize." I key the radio. "Nate, how long before you can get backup to your position?"
"Three minutes. Maybe less."
"Do it. But tell them to approach quietly. I want to see what this guy does when he thinks we're not watching."
The figure at the tree line doesn't move. Just stands there, a dark smudge against the snow, patient as death.
My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I answer on the third ring.
"Gabriel." The voice is smooth, educated. Dangerous. I know this voice. My body knows it even if my mind doesn't—every muscle tenses, ready for violence. "I see you've made friends up there. Touching, really. The little innkeeper and her broken soldier."
