Silas clears his throat. “We know who she is.”
I cross my arms and wait.
“Piper Lane,” Gavin says. “Twenty-two years old. Lives in Denver. Her father, Viktor Lane, reported her missing three days ago. He told the police she might have run away after an argument, but he has been calling every station in the state, begging them to look for her. Says she would never disappear like this without telling him.”
Silas watches me carefully. “He seems genuine. Worried sick. We pulled his statements. Clean record. Business owner. No red flags on him.”
I stare at the woman in my bed. Piper Lane. Twenty-two. Too young to have someone hunting her the way they did on that mountain road.
Silas continues, “We can call him. Let him know she’s safe. He deserves to know.”
“No.” The word comes out flat and final. All three men look at me.
I don’t explain right away. I walk over to the bed and adjust the blanket higher around Piper’s shoulders. She sighs in her sleep but doesn’t wake.
“I don’t feel right about it,” I say finally. “Someone tried to kill her last night. Rammed her car off the road in the middle of a storm. That isn’t random. Until she wakes up and tells us the whole story herself, we don’t call anyone. We trust no one. Not her father. Not the press. No one.”
Eli nods slowly. “I agree. Her body has been through hell. The last thing she needs is more stress before she can speak for herself.”
Gavin rubs the back of his neck. “Makes sense. We’ll hold off.”
Silas studies me for a long moment, then gives a single nod. “Good idea. You can never be too careful. We’ll keep digging quietly. See what else we can find on Viktor Lane and anyone connected to him.”
I appreciate that they don’t push. They know me. They know I don’t speak unless I mean it.
Another knock comes at the door, softer this time. I open it to find Harper, Emma, Fiona, Sadie, Daisy, Hannah, and Kayley standing on the porch. They carry bags and a covered plate.
Harper smiles gently. “We brought some things for her. Clothes that should fit. Toiletries. A few nightgowns and sweats. Nothing fancy, but clean and comfortable.”
Fiona holds up a small basket. “Muffins too. Blueberry and banana. In case you get hungry sitting here. Or if she wakes up and wants something light.”
I step aside and let them in. They move quietly, respectful of the silence Piper needs. Harper sets the clothes on the dresser. Sadie places the basket on the small table near the fireplace. Daisyfolds a couple of extra blankets at the foot of the bed. Kayley and Hannah arrange the toiletries neatly in the bathroom.
They don’t hover. They don’t ask a hundred questions. They simply do what needs doing and then gather near the door.
Harper looks at me. “You need anything else, Boyd?”
I shake my head. “This is enough. Thank you.”
She smiles again, warm and knowing. “We’re right down the path if you change your mind. Any of us.”
The women leave as quietly as they came. The cabin falls back into silence except for the soft crackle of the fire and Piper’s even breathing.
I sit down in the chair again. Silas, Gavin, and Eli stay a few minutes longer, going over what they have so far. Silas promises to run deeper checks on Viktor Lane and anyone Piper might have worked with in Denver. Gavin offers to pull property records and financials. Eli says he’ll be back in four hours to check on her again.
When they finally leave, I lock the door and return to my chair.
Piper Lane.
I roll the name around in my head. It fits her somehow. Even unconscious, there’s a stubborn tilt to her chin that says she doesn’t back down easily. Someone wanted her gone badly enough to run her off a mountain in the pouring rain. That kind of hate doesn’t come from nowhere.
I lean forward and brush a strand of dark hair off her forehead, careful not to touch the stitches. Her skin feels too warm. I make a mental note to tell Eli when he returns.
“You’re safe here, Piper,” I say quietly, even though she can’t hear me. “No one touches you. Not while I’m breathing.”
The words settle something deep in my chest. I’ve spent years at Haven 7 as the silent one. The sniper on the ridge. The last line of defense. I like distance. I like control. I like knowing exactly where the threat is coming from.
I settle back in the chair, rifle close, eyes on her face.
