Page 2 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

SIX MONTHS LATER…

T he night breathed like it was holding something back. Something dark. Something dangerous.

Matthew “Moose” Rhoades crouched in the scrub, his rifle braced, breath controlled.

Sweat gathered at the nape of his neck under the matte-black helmet.

Ahead, the compound loomed—two crumbling stone buildings inside a wired perimeter.

No lights. No movement. Just the hum of something wrong vibrating in the stillness.

Moose trusted two things. His gut and his team.

His gut told him something wasn’t right, he just couldn’t put his finger on it and neither could his teammates.

Mission went on as planned.

“In and out, clean and quiet,” Jupiter’s voice crackled in their comms. “Two guards at the north gate, thermal confirms.”

Moose tapped twice on his earpiece. Kawan ghosted up behind him, tall and steady despite the weight of his gear.

“North entrance clear in ten,” Kawan muttered, more to himself than anyone else. Rules were suggestions to him—Moose had long since stopped trying to rein him in.

Sloan and Lief were somewhere behind, flanking wide to create the fallback lane. The plan was simple: breach, sweep, extract one American national—a journalist named Kramer—and disappear before dawn. But simple didn’t equate to effortless.

Moose signaled forward with two fingers. They moved as one.

The perimeter was too easy. One wire snipped, two guards down with suppressed shots. Clean. Almost… rehearsed. That made Moose twitchy.

They reached the side of the first building. Jupiter’s voice returned, taut with static. “Still seeing no heat sigs inside. Either they’re sitting in ice baths or?—”

“They know we’re coming,” Moose muttered. But it was too late to turn back.

Inside, the room smelled of damp earth and old blood. A cot in the corner. A camera tripod. Shackles on the wall. But no one inside.

“No visual on Kramer,” Sloan called over comms from the other wing.

Moose stepped forward—and that’s when he saw it.

A SATphone. Wiped. Battery removed.

“Jupiter,” he said. “Pull us out.”

A click.

No reply.

“Jupiter, do you copy?”

Moose turned just as Kawan muttered, “Shit,” and shoved him to the floor.

The explosion ripped through the center wall, heat and shrapnel punching the air. Moose’s ears rang, and the ceiling collapsed in a haze of dust. He rolled, dazed, vision narrowed. Kawan yelled as he dragged Sloan by the vest. Gunfire erupted from outside. Lief returned fire, limping badly.

“Fall back,” Moose shouted, but the team was scattered.

Another blast—closer this time—knocked him backward. Everything blurred. Concrete. Gunfire. A scream.

He raised his weapon—but someone kicked it away.

Heavy boots stomped through the haze.

He tried to move. Couldn’t. His body refused.

And then a figure crouched next to him, gloved hand pressing a knife to his throat just hard enough to sting.

“Told you they’d come,” the man said in heavily accented English. “Too easy.”

The last thing Moose saw was Kawan’s body slamming into the man—then everything went black.

U.S. Military Hospital – Landstuhl, Germany

Three Days Later…

Pain arrived before sound.

Moose opened his eyes and stared at the whitewashed ceiling of the hospital room, blinking against the buzz of fluorescent lights and the steady beeping of a heart monitor beside his bed. The ache in his ribs was sharp and unrelenting, every breath reminding him he was still alive. Barely.

At least he knew where he was and why.

That was always a good thing.

His left arm was in a sling, and his shoulder was immobilized. His right thigh felt like it was wrapped in fire and ice—burned, bandaged, and numb all at once.

Someone shifted in the corner.

“You’re awake,” Thor said, rising from a hard plastic chair with a familiar wince. “About time.”

Moose managed a grunt. “You look like shit.”

“I look better than you,” Thor said dryly.

Despite the pain, Moose huffed out a weak laugh.

Thor came closer, eyes scanning his face. “You with me?”

“Yeah.”

“You remember what happened?”

Moose closed his eyes, doing his best to conjure up the remnants of the last mission. The memory rushed back in fragments—gunfire, heat, the sharp sting of betrayal when the trap snapped shut. Kawan yelling. Sloan bleeding. The deafening silence when Jupiter’s voice vanished from his comms.

Moose nodded once. “We walked into it.”

“Hard.”

“How bad am I?”

“Cracked rib, dislocated shoulder, burns on your right leg. Skull’s intact, somehow. You were out for a couple days but Doc says you’re gonna be just fine.”

“The others?”

“Sloan’s got a torn-up leg, but he’ll walk. Lief’s concussed. Kawan’s stitched up but already arguing with the nurses. Jupiter’s fine—just pissed. Thinks he should’ve seen it coming.”

“He couldn’t have,” Moose murmured. “It was a clean setup. Better than most.”

Thor nodded slowly. “Command agrees. Debriefs as soon as we land Stateside.” There was a pause, and then Thor added, “We’re getting cleared for transport soon. You know where I’ve requested and have gotten permission for all of us to go.”

Moose didn’t need to ask. “The Refuge,” he said, grateful to be going back.

Thor nodded. “Flights are being arranged now. Henley’s expecting us. While this wasn’t the worst thing we’ve been through, since Brick has room for us, we might as well take advantage. We could all use a recharge after that shitshow.”

Moose let that sink in. The last time they’d been to The Refuge, it had helped in ways nothing else had. Quiet cabins. No expectations. Real work, done without the noise of the world closing in.

He was looking forward to it.

But one thing tugged at him.

“My chickens,” he muttered.

Thor raised a brow. “Still with the chickens, huh?”

“They’re therapy birds,” Moose said flatly. “You try listening to the world fall apart and then going home to silence. Chickens are honest. They squawk, they peck, they don’t ask questions.”

“You’ll be able to see the damn chickens after debrief. We’ll have at least one night in Virginia before heading to New Mexico. I want to see that baby girl of mine.”

“Your poor wife.” Moose chuckled, which cost him a hefty dose of pain, but he didn’t care. It was good to be alive. Good to feel, even if it was pain.

“Okay, both my girls.” Thor smirked. “But we digress. I spoke to your neighbor and she’s agreed to watch them while you’re gone. Said something about naming the new one Beyoncé? Something about how that one sings a different kind of song.”

Moose groaned. “That woman’s a menace, but she loves my chickens.”

“She likes you.”

“She likes feeding my birds and threatening to knit me weird things.”

“Sounds like love.”

Moose chuckled. The woman in question was pushing seventy. She was more like a mom or a favorite aunt than anything and while she watched his chickens during deployments, he did things around the house for her. “Sarah’s the best,” Moose said.

They fell into a comfortable silence and Moose’s mind wandered all the way back to the days he liked to forget but couldn’t because it meant forgetting about the woman who saved his life—literally. And in moments like this, it always came back to Margaret.

“I’ve been meaning to write my old school counselor. Haven’t in a while.”

Thor tilted his head. “Getting in touch with people who matter after something like this is normal.”

“That’s true. But this is more like the event triggered the fact I haven’t heard from Margaret this year,” Moose said.

“She used to check with me a couple times a year. Always during the holidays and generally in the summer. Never stopped, not even if I didn’t answer.

” He paused. “She’s the reason I didn’t end up dead or in jail before the Navy. ”

“We all wish we could meet this woman.”

“She doesn’t fly.” Moose shook his head.

“She writes to me all the time about her daughter, Shay, who has traveled the globe. I guess Shay has lived in Spain, Africa, Italy, and I can’t remember the other places.

Margaret has always felt bad she’s never gone to visit her daughter, always forcing Shay to come home.

But flying is something she’s utterly terrified of. ”

“Why?”

“She’s just afraid, I guess.” Moose arched a brow.

“Margaret, the school counselor who taught me that I wasn’t the sum of my parents, will only travel by car or train.

She’s a homebody, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

She’s always said she likes the same four walls.

I kind of understand that. If I ever left the military, I’d probably enjoy staying in the same space. ”

“Danni and I talk about that all the time.” Thor leaned against the side of the bed. “We have friends who all they want to do is travel, and Danni and I both agree, if I’m ever not a SEAL, the farthest we’re going is Disney.”

“That’s an experience all by itself,” Moose said.

“Want me to get you paper and pen so you can write to Margaret?”

“I’ll write her when I get home or to The Refuge,” Moose said.

“I’ll be in a better headspace there and will be able to write something positive.

” He waved his good hand. “Here, the beeping sounds remind me of the tick right before the explosion. One shadow across that door, and I’ll be right back there and that’s a vibe I don’t need to put down in a letter. ”

“I get that.” Thor nodded.

Once Moose had his feet under him, he’d reach out to Margaret. He owed her a letter. He’d promised her when he joined the Navy that he’d always let her know he was still kicking when he’d been knocked down.

But he needed a moment to ground himself. Once the ringing in his ears faded. Once his shoulder stopped throbbing and the nightmares stopped burning through his sleep like wildfire.

The Refuge would help with that.

He just had to get there first.