I can see them now—dark figures moving with practiced precision through the trees, heading right to our location. At least six, maybe more. Too many for us to engage directly.
“We need to move,” I tell the others. “There’s a ravine about fifty yards east. If we can reach it—”
“Attention in the rocks!” A voice calls out, amplified by what sounds like a megaphone. “We have you surrounded! Come out with your hands visible!”
The voice is oddly familiar, but I can’t place it in the chaos of the moment. My mind races through options—fight, flee, or surrender. None seems particularly appealing.
“Caleb,” Lana whispers urgently. “What do we do?”
“Wait,” I reply, studying the movement patterns below us. Something isn’t right. These aren’t standard tactical formations. They’re too exposed, too obvious. Either they’re amateurs or—
“Last warning!” the voice calls again. “Show yourselves, or we will be forced to take action!”
That voice. I know that voice.
“Hold your positions,” I tell my team, a suspicion forming. “I think I know what’s happening.”
Slowly, I edge forward to the lip of our hiding spot, keeping low but making myself visible.
“Identify yourself!” I shout down.
There’s a pause, then a figure steps into the clearing below, illuminated by the fading light of the flare. My jaw clenches as recognition hits me like a physical blow.
“Mayor William Hawthorne,” I announce to the others, my voice tight with anger. “Head of the Hawthorne family and controlling interest in NTM.”
Lana gasps behind me. “The mayor? But how did he—”
“Someone tipped him off,” I say grimly, scanning the men surrounding Hawthorne. They’re not military contractors as we expected. They’re local law enforcement—Pinecrest police officers in tactical gear.
“Caleb Brennen!” Hawthorne calls up, his polished political voice carrying clearly. “I believe you and your friends aretrespassing on protected land. This area is part of the watershed preserve.”
“That’s bullshit,” I mutter. “This is Jake’s property.”
“Actually,” Richard whispers, looking pained, “this particular section is disputed territory. The boundary has been contested for decades.”
Before I can respond, movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention. Someone else is approaching from the trees with a confident stride to join Hawthorne.
As they step into the light, Lana makes a strangled sound of disbelief.
“No,” she breathes. “It can’t be.”
But it is. Standing beside Mayor Hawthorne, looking up at our position with a cold smile, is Margret Wolf.
“Hello, Richard,” Margret calls, her voice carrying a cruel edge I’ve never heard before. “Surprised to see me?”
Richard stumbles forward, confusion etched on his face. “Margret? What are you doing with him?”
“Family business,” she replies. “The Wolfs and Hawthornes have always understood each other better than outsiders could know.”
My mind races to process this betrayal. Margret—who lost her brother to NTM’s negligence, who helped us uncover the documents, who seemed as invested in exposing the truth as any of us.
“She’s been playing us from the beginning,” I realize aloud. “Feeding information to Hawthorne, leading us exactly where they wanted us.”
“Not from the beginning,” Margret corrects, overhearing me. “Only since I realized what Richard has been hiding from me all these years.” She turns her gaze to Richard, who looks utterly devastated. “My trusted foreman. My friend. All this time, you’ve been hunting my family’s legacy without telling me.”
“To protect you!” Richard protests. “The Hawthornes killed your brother!”
“Danny killed my brother,” Margret snaps. “And you’ve been obsessed with fairy tales and conspiracy theories for too long, Richard.”
