Page 25 of Keeper of Talon Mountain
"Don't say that."
"Mara." She moves to stand beside me, her reflection ghostly in the darkening window. "That was a trap. Obviously. And he walked right into it."
"He didn't have a choice."
"There's always a choice." Zara's jaw is tight. "He could have let us help. Could have called Zeke, set up counter-surveillance, done literally anything except go alone and unarmed to meet professional killers."
"He was armed." I saw him check the gun, the knife. Small comfort against whatever's waiting up on that mountain.
Zara makes a frustrated sound. "Great. So when they kill him, at least he'll have a gun he can't use because there are three of them and one of him."
"Stop." My voice breaks on the word. "Just stop."
She's quiet for a moment. When she speaks again, her tone is softer. "I'm sorry. I'm just... I've seen this before. In Anchorage. People who think they can handle things alone. It never ends well."
She's talking about more than Gabe. About her own past, her own losses. But I can't comfort her right now when my own fear is choking me.
"Two hours," I say. "He said two hours. If he's not back, we tell Zeke everything."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, we prepare." Turning from the window helps. Motion helps. Standing here watching won't bring him back faster. "Check all the doors and windows. Make sure the security system is armed. Get the rifle and shotgun from the cabinet."
Zara blinks. "You have a rifle and a shotgun?"
"My grandmother's. They're old but they work." The storage room holds things I'd rather not think about. "And there are emergency supplies in the cellar. If they come for us while Gabe is gone...”
"They won't." Zara follows me. "They want Gabe. We're just leverage."
"Which makes us targets." The rifle case comes out easily—I know exactly where it is, have always known. The shotgun sits beside it. "Help me bring up the emergency supplies. Food, water, first aid. Everything we might need if we have to barricade ourselves in."
We work in tense silence, hauling supplies up from the cellar. Canned goods, bottled water, blankets, a battery-powered radio. The medical kit my grandmother kept stocked for emergencies. Flashlights, batteries, a portable camp stove.
"You've thought about this," Zara says, watching me organize everything with methodical precision. "About being under siege."
"I've thought about a lot of things." Both weapons are loaded, clean, ready. My hands remember how to hold them even though I haven't fired either in three years. "When you spend enough time running, you learn to always have an exit strategy."
"Is that what you were doing? Running?"
I should deflect. Change the subject. But something about the way she's looking at me—not judging, just understanding—makes the truth spill out.
"Phoenix. Three years ago. My boyfriend...” I stop. Start again. "He hit me. A lot. And I stayed because I didn't know how to leave."
Zara's face hardens. "How'd you get out?"
"I had no choice. I waited until he fell asleep. Took the cash I'd hidden—a thousand dollars, maybe a little more." The rifle goes down because my hands are shaking now. “After I left, I found out my grandmother died. Left me this place. It was the only thing in my life he couldn't control, couldn't take away, Left my phone in a stranger's jacket at the airport. Bought a ticket to Anchorage and never looked back."
"Does Gabe know?"
"No. Nobody here does." I look at her. "That man on the phone—he knows about Derek. About Phoenix. He threatened to tell Derek where I am."
Zara goes very still. "That's why Gabe went. Not just to protect the town. To protect you specifically."
"I didn't ask him to...”
"You didn't have to." She picks up the shotgun, checks it with the ease of someone who knows weapons. "He's in love with you. Which means he'd walk into hell barefoot if he thought it would keep you safe."
The words hit me like a physical blow. He told me he loved me. Right before he walked out that door, possibly to his death, he told me he loved me.
