“Heat source. Woodstove,” Cannon confirmed.
Archer adjusted his focus until his eyes burned. One body moved near the middle of the room. The second stayed lower and still near the far wall.
Jolie. Alive.
His lungs unlocked enough to drag in one brutal breath before tightening again.
They settled into position just outside the cabin, snow hissing across the porch steps and roofline while every man waited on Cannon’s signal. Then a tiny red light blinked near the side of the cabin.
Once.
Twice.
O’s voice cut low through comms. “Alarm.”
Before anyone could rework the plan, a gunshot exploded inside.
A heavy crash followed.
Then another.
Archer surged for the door, every ounce of discipline burned away by panic.
Glass shattered at the rear of the cabin.
Younger barked over the comms. “Movement!”
“On him!” Rorke and Younger tore after him.
“Breach!” Cannon ordered.
Rome drove the front door inward with one kick and entered low. Archer was on his heels before the wood finished splintering. The scent of woodsmoke mixed with fear hit him. But it was the copper scent that made his blood freeze.
Then he saw Jolie.
She lay on the floor, roped to an overturned chair. Her hair covered half her face and blood soaked her sleeve.
Panicked, he dropped to his knees beside her. “Jolie.” His voice was a hot rasp, and his hands hovered over her, unsteady.
Her eyes fluttered open. “Archer?”
Air slammed back into his lungs. He wanted to throw his head back and howl his relief to the sky. He wanted to roar with fury that someone had done this to her.
He trapped both noises behind his teeth as he worked quick to cut her bonds.
“Archer!”
“I’m here, baby. I’ve got you.” He was afraid to hold her for fear there were unseen wounds.
He swept the room and called out to Rivers. “She’s bleeding.” His voice didn’t sound all that steady, and Jolie touched his jaw even though her own mouth was bloody.
God, this woman was amazing, trying to soothe him when she was the one who needed it most.
Rivers landed on his knees beside them and assessed her in one steady sweep. “I need to look at this shoulder.”
She nodded but winced when he cut open her sweater to get to the wound. As he carefully pulled the fabric away, she moaned.
“Christ, Jolie. Are you okay? Talk to me,” Archer grated out.
