Page 107 of Silent Shadows

He points farther down the wash.

Another print. Then another. A full line disappearing between the trees.

Every nerve ending in my body lights up at once.

“Oh my God,” I whisper again.

And then, a sound cuts through the canyon. Low and guttural.

Everyone’s head snaps upward in unison. The noise reverberating through the trees is so deep that I feel it in my chest.

Maya grabs Jax’s arm.

The woods go dead silent around us.

No wind. No movement. Just that sound echoing somewhere beyond the ridge line.

My pulse pounds so hard I can hear it.

Beside me, Miles inhales sharply. I turn. The expression on his face almost undoes me. Not triumph or ego. Relief.

“You hear that too?” he whispers. Just needing someone else to stand inside this moment with him.

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

I do. That’s the terrifying part. For the first time since arriving, I finally feel the pieces of this podcast clicking into place. There’s a story here, and it doesn’t need to be overly characterized or faked like the countless others. Relief washes over me—not just at the podcast finally feeling right, but at this feeling right. I grab my recorder from my pocket and press record, hoping to capture any sound bites I can.

The entire crew fumbles into motion, breaking apart across the wash to do their thing quickly and quietly.

Maya documents measurements with laser focus.

Taylor whispers to herself, tracking the footprints further.

Jax films everything with breathless excitement.

And somehow all of it feels distant compared to the way every cell of my body is attuned to Miles. He’s still standing there, his Henley’s sleeves pulled up around his unnecessarily corded forearms. His glasses sliding down his nose. I can feel the adrenaline rolling off him. The disbelief. The joy. The years of fear and grief and ridicule colliding with hope all at once.

He turns toward me again. Too close. Way too close.

Something hot and electric crashes through me all at once. The woods. The adrenaline. Him.

He returns the intensity of my stare and mutters something about giving me sound clips for the podcast before he grabs my arm and pulls me behind a cluster of pines twenty paces off the wash.

“Miles—” I try to put into words what this moment means, my hands digging into the front of his shirt. I can feel the heat radiating off him as his breathing quickens. Then, he kisses me.

And holy shit. This is not soft. This is adrenaline and relief and a week’s worth of tension detonating.

One hand weaves into my hair at the back of my head and the other grips my waist, pulling me flush against him while my fingers knot into his shirt.

The forest spins around us. Everything narrows to heat and breath and the way he kisses like he’s trying not to lose control.

Which unfortunately makes me want him more.

“Miles,” I breathe against his mouth.

“This is a bad idea,” he whispers before pushing me against the tree trunk we’re hiding behind, and he laughs softly against my lips like he can’t believe this is happening.

“Daisy—”