Dash

The outskirts of Branson’s camp come into view just as the sun dips below the tree line, casting everything in long, distorted shadows. The storm left the trails a mess—mud-slick and treacherous—but we managed. Alicia’s people are exhausted, their carts and wagons rattling as they roll into the clearing. The relief is almost tangible, but it’s undercut by a gnawing unease in my gut.

Something’s wrong.

Branson is waiting at the entrance, arms crossed, his posture rigid. Mara and a few others stand beside him, but it’s his face that catches my attention—grim and tight, like he’s bracing for impact.

I dismount, my legs stiff from hours of riding, and head straight for him. “We made it,” I say, my voice rough. “No sign of trouble on the way here.”

“Good work,” Branson replies, but there’s no relief in his tone. His eyes flick to Alicia’s group, scanning them quickly before landing back on me. “But we’ve got a bigger problem.”

My chest tightens. “What kind of problem?”

Branson doesn’t answer right away. He glances at Mara, who gives a short nod before stepping away to oversee the arrivals. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, weighted with urgency. “Greg’s gone.”

I stop cold. “Gone?”

“Disappeared last night,” Branson explains. “Took a horse, some supplies. No one’s seen him since.”

I feel my jaw clench, a bitter curse caught at the back of my throat. “You think he’s gone to Reeves?”

Branson nods, his expression dark. “Probably thought we didn’t notice, but I’m guessing this was his endgame all along. Now that we’ve pulled Alicia’s camp, he’ll piece it together.”

The knot in my chest tightens further. We’d planned for Greg to be a pawn in all of this—feeding Reeves misinformation—but we didn’t anticipate him jumping ship entirely. If he’s gone to Reeves, it’s not just bad—it’s catastrophic.

“How much does he know?” I ask, my voice low.

“Enough to cause trouble,” Branson says grimly. “He’s been in and out of meetings. Knows about the pipeline and Alicia’s people coming here.”

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“He doesn’t know everything,” I counter, my mind racing. “We never let him in on the full plan, just enough to keep him busy.”

Branson lets out a sharp breath, his hands tightening into fists. “He doesn’t need everything to do damage, Dash. All Reeves has to hear is that we’re consolidating, and he’ll come down on us hard. We don’t have the time to fully integrate Alicia’s people before that happens.”

I nod tightly. “Then we prepare for a fight.”

Branson’s eyes narrow. “We’re in better shape now. Together, we’ve got more people, more supplies. But if Reeves comes at us full force…” He trails off, leaving the implication hanging in the air.

I glance toward Alicia’s group, who are still unloading their wagons. They’re tired, battered by the storm and the journey, but they’re ready to fight if it comes to that. I just hope we don’t have to.

“Does Sage know?” I ask.

Branson shakes his head. “Not yet. Figured you’d want to break the news.”

Great. Just what I need after everything else.

The lean-to feels smaller tonight, its familiar warmth overshadowed by the weight of everything pressing down on my chest. I push the door open, the sound catching Sage’s attention as she sits near the small table, sketching something on a piece of paper.

She looks up as I step inside, her expression softening for a moment before flickering with concern. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” I say, closing the door behind me. “Alicia’s people are settled in, at least for now.”

Her brow furrows as she studies my face. “But?”

I hesitate, knowing this conversation isn’t going to end well. “Greg’s gone.”

Her body stills, her fingers tightening around the pencil she’s holding. “Gone?”

“Left last night,” I explain, leaning against the wall. “Took a horse and some supplies. Branson thinks he went to Reeves.”

Her breath catches, and I see the realization dawn in her eyes. “He’s tipping them off.”

“Probably,” I admit, the words bitter on my tongue. “Which means Reeves is going to know about Alicia’s camp and the pipeline. If he doesn’t already, he’ll figure it out soon.”

Sage exhales sharply, standing as she sets the pencil aside.

“Not ideal,” I say, stepping closer to her.“But we can’t undo it now. We just have to be ready for whatever comes next.”

Her eyes meet mine, and for a moment, there’s nothing but worry in her gaze. “Do you think we can handle it?”

I nod firmly. “We have to. We’ve got the advantage now—more people, more resources. But we’ll need to move fast. If Reeves comes for us, he’s not going to wait long.”

Sage presses her lips together, her hands curling into fists at her sides. “We need to talk to Alicia. And Branson.”

“Tomorrow,” I say, placing a hand on her arm. “They’ll need the night to recover from the trip. And so do you.”

Her shoulders drop slightly, the tension easing just enough for her to let out a shaky breath. “I hate this,” she admits softly. “I hate that we’re always one step away from fighting to survive.”

I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her as she leans into me. “I know,” I murmur. “But we’ll get through it. Together.”

She doesn’t say anything, but the way she grips the front of my shirt tells me she believes me. Or maybe she just wants to. Either way, I’ll take it.