Page 12

12

CHASE

Ethan and I comb through the CCTV replays in the hospital’s surveillance room. The footage flickers between hallways, stairwells, and main exits. My eyes land on a small figure, his hoodie pulled low, slipping into the east stairwell. Oakley.

“There!” Ethan barks, stabbing a finger at the monitor.

“Twenty minutes ago,” I say, looking at the timestamp.

“I’ll get him!” he darts out of the room.

The sharpness in his tone gives me pause. Too eager. Too green. That kind of determination leads to recklessness.

I catch him in the corridor. “You stay here,” I instruct.

Ethan shakes his head, his whole frame taut with frustration. “I screwed up big time, Chase. And I’m going to fix this.”

I step in front of him, meeting his glare head-on. He’s only twenty-three—barely out of training—and this is his first assignment. He hasn’t learned yet that guilt is a liability.

“No, you didn’t screw up,” I stress. “If a protectee doesn’t want to be protected, they make it damn hard to give. We don’t dwell. We adapt. Solution. Solution. Solution.”

His fists clench at his sides, but his eyes burn with determination. “Chase, there are two people who need you here. Let me get Oakley.”

I hesitate. My instincts scream at me to take control, to lead from the front, but Honor and Laramie’s safety isn’t negotiable—especially after Stone’s attempt to grab the baby just days ago. Ethan’s gaze doesn’t waver.

“Fine,” I say at last. “But camera on. Open comms with me and Cora-Lee. Every move you make, I want eyes on it.”

“Understood,” he says, already strapping on his gear.

Before he can move, I grab his arm. “Stick to your training. Stay focused. No heroics. Understood?”

“Understood,” Ethan replies, the weight of my words grounding him.

I release him, watching as he disappears down the hall. Without delay, I rush back to Honor.

“Did you find him?” she asks, her face pale but holding steady.

“Not yet. Ethan’s on the ground tracking him,” I reply.

Her hand trembles as she cradles Laramie closer. “Chase, he can’t go back to Damon.”

“We’ll get Oakley back. Today,” I meet her gaze with conviction.

She nods, but the worry in her eyes doesn’t fade.

“I need to set up here,” I say. “I can’t risk anyone overhearing my comms or catching a glimpse of the video feeds.”

“It’s fine,” she says, her voice dropping as she glances at Laramie. “Just keep it quiet.”

“Got it.”

I set up my laptop on a small table by the window, letting Cora-Lee join in from Helena.

“Cee, talk to me. What do you have?” I ask as I plug into the feed.

Her voice crackles through the comms. “I’ve been combing through the street cameras near the hospital. Oakley stopped at a convenience store a block away to buy cigarettes.”

A video feed pops up on my screen. I watch Oakley approach the counter, his hoodie still pulled low.

“Then this guy shows up,” Cora-Lee continues. “They seem familiar—fist bumps, bro hug, the whole deal.”

My gut tightens as the man’s face comes into view. I can’t believe that guy still has a job at the Circle after I sent him packing—literally packed him up myself. “The son of a bitch came back.”

“What do you mean?” Honor asks.

“He tried to snatch Laramie not long after you gave birth,” I reply, then switch to the comms. “Ethan, are you hearing this?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “How recent is this convenient store footage?”

“Twelve minutes ago,” Cora-Lee confirms.

“I’m heading to the store now,” Ethan says, focused.

Honor’s eyes lock on the screen as the convenience store footage rewinds. “That’s Rollo! One of the Circle. Oakley used to hang around him—thought he was cool. Impressionable kid stuff,” she adds with a sigh. “But why would he?—”

She trails off as her shoulders slump, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. The sight hurts me. “Honor, this isn’t on you. You can’t control what Oakley does.”

Cora-Lee’s voice pulls me back to the task at hand. “They’re leaving the store, heading toward a car.”

“Zoom in on the plates,” I say, leaning closer to the screen.

“Got it,” she replies, freezing the frame and enhancing the image.

“I’ll call Freeman for backup.”

The call connects instantly, and Captain Freeman doesn’t miss a beat. His response is quick, decisive—a man who knows the stakes. Red Mark might just have a solid ally in the Bozeman PD now.

Ethan’s voice comes through again as the call with Freeman ends. “I’ve got a visual. They’re heading for I-90.”

“Bozeman PD is en route,” I say, issuing the next orders. “Pursue, but keep it low-key. Rollo knows Oakley, so he’s not a direct threat. Your objective is to stop them before this escalates. No one gets hurt. Understood?”

“I’ve got this, Chase,” Ethan replies.

From the video feed, I see Ethan accelerate a little too hard, his car weaving slightly.

“Ease off the pedal, Ethan. No need to spook him,” I say, keeping my tone measured. Despite his eagerness, deep down, I know he’s got this.

“Copy,” he replies, though I can still hear the adrenaline in his voice.

Ethan keeps his pursuit clean. On the feed, I watch him nudge closer, not too aggressive, but enough to let the driver know he’s not going anywhere.

The suspect’s car swerves, testing escape routes. Right then, Ethan makes his move. He presses forward, sliding into position to cut off the suspect’s lane. It’s a bold maneuver, and for a second, my pulse spikes. But his execution is precise—controlled without being reckless.

“That’s my man,” I murmur to myself. Behind me, Honor sits stiffly, her hands clenched in her lap, barely able to keep her eyes on the screen.

Right then, Ethan decides, “Engaging target.”

“Go! Box him in,” I reply, leaning closer to the screen. My eyes track his car as it edges the suspect toward the shoulder, the police cars looming in both directions. The pressure works—the suspect slows, and the vehicles crawl to a stop. I let out a small breath, tension easing just enough to steady my focus.

“Get Oakley!” I order, my voice firm.

The moment the suspect’s car halts, the driver bolts, throwing open the door and sprinting toward the highway embankment. Freeman’s men, already positioned, move in fast. Two officers tackle him, pinning him to the ground. His career as a Stoneborn is over.

Ethan steps out of his vehicle, his movements sharp and purposeful, and approaches the passenger side. His voice comes through the comms, steady now. “I’ve got Oakley.”

Behind me, Honor lets out a shuddering breath and drops to the edge of the bed, her face in her hands. “Thank God. Thank God.”

But then, the situation takes a turn.

“What the hell, Ethan!” Oakley’s voice bursts through the comms, angry and raw. “We were just off for a fucking drive! He was going to take me back to the hospital.”

“Get in the car!” Ethan snaps, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Didn’t I say don’t wander off?”

“Fuck your rules!” Oakley shouts back, his voice cracking with frustration.

“Get in the car!” Ethan repeats, his tone hardening.

“I’m not going back to your prison!” Oakley yells, his voice trembling. “Hell, for all I care, I should’ve just disappeared with Rollo and never come back!”

Honor gasps audibly, her hand flying to her mouth. “Oh my God. I never realized he resents me that much.”

Her statement wounds me. Maybe she thought Oakley would be relieved, eager to go back to her.

I crouch beside her, placing my hands on her shoulders. “No, Honor. He’s upset. He’s confused. We’ll talk to him and figure this out.”

The comms crackle again as Ethan tries to defuse the situation. “Oakley, listen. I’m not taking you back to my parents’ house. I’m taking you back to Honor. She’s worried sick about you, man.”

There’s a pause, only the sound of Oakley’s uneven breathing filling the line.

“Is everything okay here?” a policeman asks in the background, his voice calm but cautious.

“It’s fine,” Ethan replies, waving him off. “I’ve got it under control.”

After a long silence, Oakley’s voice comes through again, quieter this time. “Fine. Whatever.”

Ethan exhales audibly. “Good. Let’s go.”

Honor’s shoulders slump in relief as she watches Oakley climb into Ethan’s car on the screen. He doesn’t say another word, his face turned toward the window, but at least he’s safe.

* * *

Ethan and Oakley pull up to the hospital. Ethan steps out first, calm and composed, while Oakley drags his feet, his hoodie pulled up like it’s some kind of shield.

Honor is already at the door, clutching Laramie in one arm, her face tight with relief and worry. The moment Oakley’s close enough, she pulls him into a hug, but he stands stiff, his arms dangling at his sides.

“Oakley, what were you thinking?” she says, her voice cracking on the edges.

“I’ve explained to Ethan. Ask him,” Oakley mutters, his gaze fixed somewhere past her shoulder.

She tugs him forward, taking him into the room.

“Oak…” Her voice drops. “Please. I know you’re frustrated. I know things aren’t the way they used to be. You can’t do the things you’re used to doing. But I need you to stay with the Connors. We can’t be together all the time. You know it’s not practical.”

He shrugs, rolling his eyes. “I just needed a cig. Chill, it’s not a big deal.”

“And Rollo?” Honor snaps, her control slipping. “Did you see how he just left you and tried to run away?”

“It was Ethan’s fault!”

“You think Rollo would’ve just driven you back here? No! He would’ve taken you straight to your parents.”

Oakley flinches but doesn’t back down. “Oh, well maybe that would’ve been better!”

The words hit Honor like a physical blow. I see it in the way her shoulders sag, the way her grip on Laramie tightens. The baby, as if sensing the tension, starts to cry. Honor closes her eyes, her breath shuddering as she shifts her focus to soothing Laramie.

I can see her unraveling, torn between keeping it together for her baby and trying to reach Oakley, who’s digging in deeper. She presses her lips together, clearly searching for the right thing to say, but I know this is the moment to step in.

I move closer, lowering my voice as I lean toward her. “Can I talk to him?”

She looks up at me, her eyes glassy with unshed tears, and nods. “Yeah. Please.”

I step between them, my tone firm but calm. “Come on, gents. Let’s talk outside,” I tell Oakley and Ethan.

We sit in one of the waiting rooms. Oakley’s slumped in his chair, arms crossed.

“Spill it, Oakley,” I say, keeping my tone steady but direct.

He glances at me, caught off guard, but stays quiet.

“Spill it all,” I repeat. “I promise, whatever you say, it stays between us. Honor doesn’t have to know unless you want her to.”

His shoulders drop slightly. “It was a mistake. Running away from my parents and following her,” he mutters. “I thought things would work out. But then she just… pushed me away to live with someone else.”

I nod, letting the silence stretch. Sometimes, that’s when the truth surfaces.

“Is it about Laramie?” I ask, keeping my tone measured.

Oakley’s eyes well up, his defenses cracking. “I love her, okay? I’d never hurt her. But I should’ve known Honor couldn’t take care of us both. And compared to Laramie, I’m nothing to her!”

His words hit hard, but I keep my expression calm. “Oakley,” I say, leaning forward, “can we agree on a few things?”

He nods hesitantly, brushing a tear off his cheek.

“First,” I begin, “Honor loves you like her own son.”

He scoffs, but there’s doubt rather than defiance in his voice. “I don’t know about that.”

“She does,” I say firmly.

“When I came here earlier, I told her I missed her. She didn’t say anything,” Oakley complains, his voice carrying that mix of hurt and frustration only a teenager can master.

I smile faintly, though my heart tugs at the vulnerability in his tone. It’s amazing how something so small can feel monumental at his age.

“Listen,” I say slowly. “The first thing she asked when she came out of surgery wasn’t about herself. It was about you. I was here, Oakley. I heard her say it. ‘Is Oakley safe?’”

His face twists, conflict written all over it—defiance warring with the undeniable truth of my words. But he doesn’t speak, and I can see the cracks forming in his wall of resistance.

“And she didn’t send you back when you ran from your parents, did she?” I add. “She took a massive risk keeping you with her. She loves you, Oakley.”

“I know,” he admits, his voice barely audible. “I know she loves me.”

“Good. Second,” I carry on, “Laramie is going to be her priority. Not because she’s her biological daughter, but because she’s a baby. She needs more right now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” he says, nodding, though his shoulders are still tense.

“And third,” I add more firmly, “you know your parents are dangerous, right?”

He shrugs, avoiding my eyes.

“You do,” I press. “Because if they weren’t, you wouldn’t have followed Honor all the way to Wild Horse Island.”

That lands. He bows his head, the fight draining from him.

“You did the right thing leaving behind your parents and the Stoneborn Circle,” I say. “But you’ve got to let us help you move forward.”

He sighs, his voice heavy with hopelessness. “I just hate living in that house.” Then he looks at Ethan, his expression easing. “I’m sorry, man. I don’t hate you. I just can’t live there anymore.”

Ethan nods, his voice calm and understanding. “Point taken. It’s a secure house, and you haven’t been allowed out. I get it. I’m glad you told me.”

I lean back slightly, giving Oakley space to process. “Oakley,” I say, “I need you to clarify something for me. Affirm it. You don’t want to go back to the Circle, right? Not your parents, not the people you think might still be your friends. None of it.”

He looks up, meeting my gaze for the first time. “I don’t want to go back.”

“Good,” I say. “Now, what’s the solution?”

Ethan jumps in, his tone calm but sincere. “Tell you what. My parents’ house feels like a prison—not just because of the fortified everything—but because there’s no one else there except me and my dad. My mom’s out on a business trip with the twins. And Noah—he’s your age, by the way—he’s off at summer camp.”

I keep my focus on Oakley, watching his expression closely. His jaw tightens at first, but then it loosens. He’s listening, even if he doesn’t want to show it.

Ethan continues, “If you’re willing to stick it out with me and my dad for a couple more days, we’ll head to the farm together with Noah, the twins, and my mom. She’s cool. You’d like her.”

Oakley’s brow furrows as he thinks it over. His skepticism is still there, but I can see it start to fade. “I don’t know…” he says slowly. “Will that just be another prison? But bigger?”

Smart kid. He’s asking the right questions, not just blindly agreeing.

Ethan doesn’t hesitate. “No, it won’t, Oak. I swear it won’t. I was an addict once—nearly died from an overdose. But my family? They stayed by my side. And that farm? It saved me. It gave me a second chance. It could do the same for you.”

I glance at my partner with an approving look.

Oakley hesitates, thinking it over. “Okay. I’ll give it a shot,” he says finally.

“And if you don’t like it?” I challenge gently.

He shrugs. “I’ll talk to Honor.”

“Fair enough,” I say. “And we’ll figure out another solution.”

Later, back with Honor, Oakley approaches her while she’s still cradling Laramie. He pauses for a moment, then wraps his arms around them both. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

Honor’s eyes glisten as she looks over Oakley’s shoulder, mouthing ‘Thank you’ to me. I offer a simple smile in return.

Every child rescued, every family reunited, loosens the tether of guilt that’s bound me since Kalispell—a family destroyed, a child left orphaned. No lifetime of good deeds will ever sever it, but each act makes it just a little easier to bear.

Oakley pulls back, smirking. “I guess you’re gonna lecture me about the cig?”

“Not now,” she replies. “But don’t think you’re off the hook.”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Guess I’ll brace for impact later.”

As Honor and Oakley laugh at each other, I turn to Ethan, motioning for him to follow me out.

“Great job, partner,” I praise him. “You really nailed it today.”

“So, does this mean you’ll put in a good word with my dad?”

“Absolutely.”

“Think a raise might be on the table?”

“Don’t push your luck, buddy,” I reply with a clap on his shoulder.