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T he dense foliage parts as I jog to catch up with Hayes, the larger man’s broad shoulders materialising through the tangle of bracken. “Oi, mate, you seen Briar?” I call out, lengthening my stride to match his purposeful gait.

Hayes shakes his head without breaking pace, chestnut waves bobbing with each measured step. “Nah, not yet. Fuckin’ rabbit’s proven harder to pin down than I expected.” His rich burr carries an undercurrent of respect despite the gruff words. “Ran into Arius about fifteen back, though. Bloke looked like he was on the warpath.”

My brow furrows at that worrying tidbit. “Yeah? How’s he holding up?” I can’t resist probing, raking my gaze over Hayes’ inscrutable profile.

Even in the fading evening light, I don’t miss the slight tightening around his full lips, or the way those whisky-hued eyes shutter fractionally. “He’s… fine,” Hayes hedges after a loaded pause. “Why wouldn’t he be? Doin’ what he’s been trained for all these years, just like the rest of us wankers.”

Right, of course.

My chest constricts with a twinge of guilt for even raising the concern aloud. With these damned cameras and potential audio pickups strapped to our bodies, even the barest hint of empathy or camaraderie risks shattering this whole brutal charade. Kavanagh didn’t rise to such lofty ranks by tolerating insubordination or failure, no matter how extenuating the circumstances.

Expelling a sharp exhale, I nod in grim acknowledgement while absently licking my dry lips. “Fair enough. I take it our rabbit managed to slip Arius’ clutches again, then?” The barest ghost of a smirk quirks the edge of my mouth, unable to resist needling Hayes about Briar’s tenacity despite the severity of our situation.

To his credit, Hayes doesn’t rise to the bait, simply arching one dark brow before jerking his chin up the path winding through the trees. “You could say that. Last Arius saw, she was headed for the northwest corner about a half-klick back. Could be bloody anywhere by now, the resourceful bitch.”

The muscle along my jaw twitches in annoyance at that demeaning slight towards Briar’s resilience, even if it wasn’t said with any real disdain. I force my features to remain impassive, however, merely offering another curt nod before we resume our steady trek through the woodland.

Northwest corner, huh?

I don’t allow my thoughts to linger on that nugget too long, quickly parsing Hayes’ words through the cipher we had established last night. Reversing cardinal directions during this twisted gauntlet, letting each other know her actual heading without alerting whoever might be monitoring the situation on the far side of those damnable cameras.

Southeast, then. Not that it particularly matters, since engaging or pursuing her remains the last thing we want to do until the last hour. Two more hours to avoid unwanted contact at any cost… assuming her path doesn’t blindly intersect with one of ours first.

Gravel crunches beneath our boots, the only discernible sound apart from the occasional hoot of a hunting owl drifting down through the canopy. I can’t resist scanning the shifting shadows every few minutes, gut clenching at each errant rustle or snap of twigs that might betray another presence nearby.

“You seen Rhys around at all, by the way?” I finally break the lingering quiet, allowing my strides to slow slightly as we round a sweeping bend in the trail.

Hayes exhales a snort, shrugging broad shoulders in a lazy roll. “Nah, but I reckon the fucker’ll turn up lurking closer to the witching hour,” he mutters. “Slippery git’s probably waiting until the last possible moment to start his part of this charade.”

Despite the gruff assessment of our mate’s shady tactics, neither of us can fault Rhys’ logic in preserving stamina and energy until absolutely necessary. My own calves are already burning with exertion, shoulders aching from the invasive harness monitoring our every damn move.

Nostrils flaring, I draw a steadying breath—only to freeze mid-inhale at the unmistakable crunch of snapping twigs up ahead. My fingers instinctively lash out, wrapping around Hayes’ bicep to halt his forward momentum.

The compact muscles beneath my grasp instantly tense, Hayes going rigid as we both attune ears to the faint sounds of something crashing through the undergrowth. Rapid footfalls and the muted rustle of disturbed foliage, too frantic to be the patrol of woodland creatures…

Briar?

Loosening my grip, I incline my head towards the sheltering copse of towering oaks bordering the path’s edge. Hayes nods once in silent accord, the two of us breaking off the main thoroughfare to instead shadow its trajectory deeper under the mottled canopy.

This far from the midnight reckoning, running headlong into Briar spells potential disaster, no matter how achingly tempting the prospect. Better to bide time and keep our distance.