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“I’d rather get hypothermia than a spear through my chest,” I reply without thinking.

Erik flinches. “Shit, Tatum. I’m so sorry you saw that. I?—”

But he’s interrupted by a low, roaring sound.

The sound of a boat approaching.

His team? Or the people who put us here?

Fear takes over, pushing aside all rational thought. I cringe against Erik, clutching his shirt. “Erik. Oh, God. What if?—”

“It’s not.” He sounds so calm. So confident. But he still draws me against him, sheltering me in his arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

I wish I could be as confident as him. But all I feel right now is abject terror.

“Don’t cry, Tate.” A hand strokes through my hair. “Don’t cry. I’m sure it’s my team. And no matter what, I’ve got you.”

Am I crying?

I don’t want to. I want to be brave. But I think my reserves of courage are finally drained.

The roar of the boat’s engine gets louder. And louder. But not loud enough to drown out the frantic beating of my heart.

Then.

The engine drops to a dull hum.

The waves pick up, slapping the shore.

A voice calls out, “Erik! What the fuck happened?”

Erik’s arms tighten around me, but it feels more reassuring than protective. “It’s okay,” he says. “These guys work for my company. We’re safe.”

Then, more loudly, he replies, “We’re okay. Mostly. But we need to get Tatum out of here.”

Though I’m reluctant to leave the relative safety of Erik’s chest, I turn around to look at the voice approaching.

Or rather, two voices, belonging to two men. Men dressed all in black, who are both racing towards us with guns held low, not aimed at us, but ready to fire if necessary.

“Cole,” Erik calls. “Shit, man, I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

The man with a brush of dark brown hair and an intense gaze jogs over to us and claps Erik on the shoulder. “Fuck. You have no idea how…” The intensity in his expression shifts to something vulnerable. Worried. He lifts his chin at Erik. “When Dante called to say you were in trouble, we headed out right away. Since we’re closer, we hoped we could get here sooner.”

The second man jogs up to us and lets out a heavy sigh of relief. “Shit, E. We’ve been racing all over the place searching for you. Your tracker kept moving. From Tupper Lake to Keene Valley, then western Maine, past Bangor…”

“So we’re in Maine, then?” At the second man’s affirmation, Erik gives me a little squeeze. “You were right, Tate. Good call.”

Then he shifts me to one arm, still keeping it looped tightly around my shoulder. “Tatum. These two guys are Cole and Rylan. They’re part of the original Blade and Arrow Security team out of Sleepy Hollow, New York.” To the men, he adds, “And this is Tatum. She got dragged into this shitshow with me. And she’s been incredible.”

Warmth blossoms inside me, chasing away some of the chilling fear.

The man named Cole looks me over, his gaze darkening with concern. When he notices the bruise on my cheek, his jaw tenses with anger. But his voice is kind as he says, “Hi, Tatum. I’m Cole Mitchell. Founder of Blade and Arrow Security. And this guy to my right is Rylan Jacobson. He works at the Sleepy Hollow location with me.”

“What about the Bravo team?” Erik asks. “Are they?—”

“Dante and Niall just got to the dock about five minutes ago,” Rylan says. “They should be heading out here shortly. They would have been here sooner, but—” He glances at me and stops. “Anyway. It’s not important. Not now.”

“This place is…” Erik scowls. “There are traps. At least one dead person. Another I had to restrain. I’m assuming he’s still alive, although…”