Page 14 of Forest Reed (Seals on Fraiser Mountain #8)

Forest

The air around Mirror Lake went from still to chaos in half a second. Gunfire shredded bark, splinters snapping into my cheek. Zoe stayed tight at my side, firing steady, no panic—city cop precision. God, she was fearless.

“Left flank!” Lane’s voice cut sharp over comms. Her rifle cracked again from the ridge. Jason’s voice followed, calm as if he were calling chess moves: “Two more vans inbound—east road. You’ve got thirty seconds before you’re trapped.”

“Copy,” I growled.

Zoe ducked as rounds sparked against the rock. “You got a thirty-second miracle in that vest, Mountain Man?”

“Better,” I said, grabbing the net rope we’d hauled from the ravine. We’ll use it again. “Teamwork.”

I sprinted low along the shore, Zoe covering me, bullets stitching the dirt behind my boots. I anchored one end of the net to a half-buried boulder, looped the rope around, and gave the signal.

Zoe popped up, yelled something extremely inappropriate at the nearest masked shooter, and when they surged forward, I yanked.

The net whipped up from the ground like a trapdoor, flipping two men into each other and tangling a third mid-stride. He went down swearing, rifle skittering.

“Raccoon season,” Zoe shouted, grinning like a lunatic.

Lane’s rifle barked approval from the ridge.

But North—North didn’t blink. He stood calm at the far shore, phone still in hand, eyes calculating like this was all part of the show.

“Jason,” Lane snapped, “I don’t have a shot on North. He’s hugging the cover.”

Jason’s voice came back dry. “Then let’s make him move.”

The east-road vans burst into view, headlights cutting beams across the water. Men poured out—too many, too fast.

I shoved Zoe behind the upturned log. “Hold here.”

“Don’t you dare bench me—”

“I’m not. Just buy me ten seconds.”

She narrowed her eyes, then popped up and laid down fire like ten seconds was her favorite currency.

I sprinted, hit the water’s edge, and slid into the lake. Cold swallowed me whole. The world muted, bullets fizzing above the surface like angry hornets. I came up chest-deep, rifle braced, and opened fire across the line of men fanning out.

They staggered, shouting, scrambling for cover that didn’t exist. Jason’s voice came cool over comms: “Nice distraction. Adjusting—”

Then Lane’s shot rang out, clean and final. One of North’s lieutenants dropped, red blossoming across his chest.

Zoe was suddenly at my side in the water, soaked, eyes blazing. “Next time you go swimming without me, I’m tasing you.”

I almost laughed. Almost. But North was moving.

He lifted a hand, calm, and the surviving men fell back toward the vans. Retreating, not panicked—disciplined. His eyes met mine across the dark stretch of the lake. Cold. Assessing.

And then he smiled.

Something beeped. A sharp, rapid warning from the vans.

“Back!” I roared, shoving Zoe toward shore. “They’re wired—”

The first van erupted in a fireball, heat searing across the water, shockwave knocking me to my knees. The second went a heartbeat later, a chain of flame ripping the night wide open.

Lane’s voice cracked over comms. “Forest! Zoe!”

“We’re good,” I coughed, hauling Zoe against me as smoke boiled up. “We’re—”

But when I looked across the lake again, North was gone. Just rippling shadows and the hiss of burning metal.

Zoe spat lake water, hair plastered to her face. “Tell me we at least singed his fancy suit.”

“Not even close,” I said, scanning the treeline. My gut twisted cold. “He wanted us here. He wanted us to watch.”

Jason’s voice came in, grim. “Then what’s he really after?”

I didn’t answer. Because deep down, I knew. North hadn’t just been running guns or testing us.

He’d just declared war.

And Zoe Brewer was at the center of it.