Page 70 of Auctioned to the Devil

Fresh tire tracks.

Same tread.

I move through the trees.

Fast.

Quiet.

Every skill I spent years trying to forget comes back like I never left it.

Watch the ridge.

Check the wind.

Listen before moving.

Don’t silhouette yourself.

Don’t rush because you’re afraid.

Especially when you’re afraid.

I see the logging operation through the trees twenty minutes later.

Three buildings.

One truck.

Four men outside.

Richard Sloan is one of them.

My hands curl.

Not yet.

I circle wide.

Find another set of tracks near the largest building.

Smaller.

Emily’s.

She’s here.

Alive when they brought her in.

That’s enough.

For now.

I move.

The first man never sees me.

I come up behind him, lock an arm around his throat and put him down before he can make a sound.