The sound of the engine was a blunt instrument, shattering the mountain's fragile peace. It didn't roar; it growled, a deep, patient rumble that spoke of heavy tires and serious suspension eating up the rough fire road. It was coming from the direction of the main retreat, a deliberate, invasive probe.
Inside the backup cabin, the air turned to glass. Eleanor's finger hovered over the call button on the satellite phone. Lu Huai stood frozen by the grimy window, as if she could see through miles of dense timber. Sarah clutched Chloe, who whimpered softly, sensing the tectonic shift in the adults around her.
"They're on the property," Eleanor stated, the words dropping like stones. She finished dialing and put the phone to her ear. It rang once, twice. A male voice, rough with sleep, answered. "Mitch. It's Ellie. We have a Code Black at the retreat. Unfriendlies approaching via the east fire road. I'm at the secondary site with two civilians. Need an immediate, discreet intercept. Your usual fee, times three. No engagement unless necessary. I just need a roadblock and eyes."
She listened for a moment, her face grim. "Understood. We'll hold." She ended the call. "Mitch and his brother. They run a hunting guide service out of Willow Creek. Ex-military. They know these woods better than anyone. They'll be at the main gate in twenty minutes."
"What will they do?" Lu Huai asked, her voice surprisingly steady.
"Ask questions first. Politely. See who they are, what they want. If they're just lost, they'll be directed out. If they're pushy, Mitch and Roy will become the most uncooperative, vaguely intimidating good ol' boys you've ever met. Buying us time." Eleanor checked the pistol, ensuring the safety was on before tucking it into the waistband of her pants at the small of her back. "But we operate on the assumption they will not be deterred. We need a fallback from the fallback."
She moved to the far wall of the cabin, behind the bunk beds. Kneeling, she pried up a floorboard that was cleverly fitted to look seamless. From the dark space beneath, she pulled out two thick, rubberized dry bags. "Survival kits. One for you, one for Sarah. Water filtration, fire starters, space blankets, more rations, a basic first-aid kit, cash." She handed one to each of them. "If this cabin is compromised, you take these and you go north. There's a creek about half a mile that way. Follow it upstream. It leads to an old forestry service watchtower. It's abandoned, but it's shelter. You stay there until I or Mitch finds you. Do not, under any circumstances, go back toward the retreat."
Lu Huai took the heavy bag, its weight a promise of a more profound wilderness. "And you?"
"I'll stay here as long as I can. Create a distraction if needed. My medical oath doesn't just mean I patch people up. It means I stand between harm and my patients." Her gaze was flinty. "But my first priority is getting you two out clean. So if I say run, you run. Don't look back. Don't argue."
The black SUV, a modified G-Wagon that looked as at home on a battlefield as on Rodeo Drive, came to a stop at the simple wooden arch marking the entrance to Serenity Pines. Two men sat inside. The driver, Ross, was ex-Special Forces, with a calm, observant gaze. The passenger, Kline, was younger, sharper, a specialist in executive protection and less savory forms of persuasion. They both wore dark, functional clothing, boots, and carried no visible weapons, though the SUV's hidden compartments held several.
"No gate. No visible cameras," Kline noted, scanning the tree line. "Just the sign. Feels… pastoral."
"It's a trap of a different kind," Ross said, his voice a low rumble. "The privacy is the weapon here. No witnesses." He put the vehicle in park but left the engine running. "We do the approach. Polite. We're here to inquire about a family member seeking treatment. We got lost."
They stepped out. The air was bitingly cold and silent. Too silent. The birds had stopped singing. Ross's eyes swept the area, noting the lack of tire tracks, the undisturbed gravel. The main lodge, visible down a gentle slope, looked placid, smoke curling from its chimney.
They had taken three steps toward the lodge when a new engine sound, this one the high whine of an old V8, cut through the silence. A battered, mud-spattered Ford pickup truck, the kind that had never seen a car wash, came bouncing up the road behind them and slewed to a stop, blocking the SUV's exit.
Two men got out. The driver, Mitch, was in his fifties, built like a barrel, with a thick salt-and-pepper beard and eyes the color of weathered denim. He wore a faded flannel jacket and a baseball cap for a local feed store. His brother, Roy, was lankier, quieter, but moved with a similar, deceptive ease. He leaned against the truck's fender, picking at his teeth with a matchstick.
"Mornin'," Mitch said, his voice friendly but his stance blocking the path to the lodge. "Can I help you gentlemen? This is private property."
Ross offered a practiced, neutral smile. "Good morning. We're looking for the Serenity Pines retreat. We have an appointment with Dr. Vance. Must have taken a wrong turn."
Mitch scratched his beard, looking from Ross to Kline to their $200,000 armored SUV. "Appointment, huh? Don't recall Ellie mentioning any appointments today. And she usually does, seein' as how I'm the one plows her road in winter." He took a step closer. His smile didn't reach his eyes. "Who'd you say you were here for again?"
The shift was subtle. Ross's posture straightened almost imperceptibly. The friendly pretense was evaporating. "A family matter. It's urgent. We'd appreciate it if you could let Dr. Vance know we're here."
"Well, see, that's the thing," Mitch said, hooking his thumbs in his belt loops. "Dr. Vance isn't one for surprises. And you two look an awful lot like a surprise. Now, I'm gonna have to ask you to turn that fancy rig around and head on back the way you came. This is a place of healing. We like to keep the peace."
Kline took a step forward, his previous casual demeanor gone. "We're not leaving until we speak to the doctor. Or until we confirm a certain individual is not here. It would be in everyone's best interest to cooperate."
Roy stopped picking his teeth. The matchstick went still. The air crackled.
Before Kline could take another step, Mitch's hand, which had been resting on his belt, moved. It didn't go for a weapon. It simply raised, and from the trees on either side of the road, two distinct, metallic clicks echoed—the unmistakable sound of a shotgun pump.
Ross's eyes darted. Two more men, similarly dressed in hunter's camouflage, had materialized from the forest, each holding a shotgun pointed at the ground, but with clear lines of fire. They hadn't been there thirty seconds ago.
"Like I said," Mitch repeated, his voice losing all its folksy warmth, "this is private property. You are trespassing. The county sheriff is a good friend of mine, and he knows I don't take kindly to strangers threatening my peace. Or my friends'. You have ten seconds to get in your vehicle and leave. Or the next conversation you have will be with him, from a cell. And I can guarantee it'll take him a good, long while to get up this mountain."
It was a standoff, but the math was clear. Ross and Kline were outnumbered, out-gunned, and on legally ambiguous ground. Their orders allowed for detention if she fled, but not for a firefight with local militia.
Ross held Mitch's gaze for a long, tense moment. He gave a single, sharp nod. "We'll be in touch with Dr. Vance. Through proper channels."
Without another word, he and Kline turned, got back into the SUV, and executed a precise three-point turn. The black G-Wagon crawled back down the fire road, disappearing into the trees.
Mitch watched them go until the sound of the engine faded. He walked over to where one of the camouflaged men stood and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good. Now you and Ben keep watch here. Roy, you're with me. We're going up to Ellie's bolt-hole. Something tells me the folks she's protectin' are the reason for that particular brand of trouble."
In the cabin, the satellite phone buzzed. Eleanor snatched it up. "Mitch."
"They're gone. For now. Two guys, pros. Had a story, but it was thin as tissue. They wanted in, and they weren't planning on taking no for an answer. I convinced 'em otherwise." Mitch's voice was grim. "Ellie, who the hell are these people? They weren't paparazzi. They were… something else."
"The kind of people with resources to send more," Eleanor said. "We're coming out. We need to move. The primary location is burned."
"We'll meet you on the ridge trail. Five minutes."
Eleanor turned to Lu Huai and Sarah. "We're leaving. Now. Grab the bags. We're meeting Mitch. He'll get us out of here."
They moved quickly, extinguishing the lantern and the stove. The cabin returned to cold, dusty darkness. As they slipped out the door, Lu Huai took one last look at the tiny space that had been their brief refuge. It felt like losing another home.
They met Mitch and Roy on a rocky outcrop a few hundred yards away. Mitch's eyes swept over Lu Huai, pausing on the unmistakable curve of her belly, then moving to Sarah and Chloe. His expression was unreadable.
"Jeep's down the west slope," he said to Eleanor. "We can get you to a safe house in town. My sister's place. No one will look for you there."
Eleanor shook her head. "Too close. If they have drones, they have license plate readers, they have eyes in town. We need to vanish completely, Mitch. For a few days at least."
Mitch rubbed his beard, thinking. "There's the old Miller homestead. Way out past Silver Lake. No power, no road access this time of year except by snowmobile or foot. It's stocked for winter. Isolated as the moon."
"Can you get us there?"
"It'll be a hike. A hard one. Especially for…" He gestured toward Lu Huai and Sarah.
"We can do it," Lu Huai said, her voice cutting through the cold air. There was no hesitation in it. "We don't have a choice."
Mitch looked at her, really looked at her, and something in her face—the absolute resolve, the lack of fear—made him nod slowly. "Alright then. Roy, you get back to the main lodge, make it look normal. I'll take 'em." He looked at Eleanor. "You comin', Doc?"
"I'm staying with my patients," Eleanor said simply.
"Let's move. We got a narrow window before they regroup." Mitch led the way, striking off on a trail that was little more than a suggestion between the trees.
As they began the arduous trek, deeper into the wild heart of the mountains, Lu Huai's mind was no longer on the men in the black SUV. It was on the man who had sent them. The cold, analytical puppeteer in his glass tower. He had found her sanctuary. He had forced her to run, again. But with every step she took away from his reach, her fear was being forged, in the fire of her anger and her love, into something harder.
He thought he was reclaiming property. He thought this was a transaction.
She would make him understand it was a war. And in this terrain, on her terms, she was just beginning to learn how to fight.