Page 106 of Breaking His Exile

Jax nodded. Once.

“Ghost and Jax take the ridge.” Brandt turned to Walker. “You, Callahan, and Vega approach from the north tree line. I’ll come in from the east with Beckett.” His gaze found River. “You know the ground?”

“I’ve ridden it.” River’s voice was steadier than it had any right to be. “Every trail. Every draw. I can get us in quiet.”

“Good.” Brandt looked at Evander. “You drive in at ten-fifty. Park in the open. Hands visible. They’ll take you to Rainey. Once you have visual confirmation she’s alive, you signal. One raised hand. We move on that.”

Evander held Brandt’s gaze. The marshal’s eyes were dark and unreadable and absolutely certain. This was a man who had extracted witnesses from worse situations than this. A man who understood exactly what he was asking Evander to do.

Walk in. Alone. Unarmed. Let them take him to her. Trust that the men moving through the trees would reach them in time.

Trust.

The word sat in his chest like something with weight.

“Cole.” Walker’s voice pulled him back. “This only works if you believe it. All of it. Not just the tactical pieces. The rest.” His blue eyes held Evander’s without yielding. “These men are choosing to go with you. That’s their right. Not yours to take away because you’re afraid of what happens if they bleed.”

The kitchen held the words. Bear watched him. Jonah watched him. X had gone still, his usual performance stripped away, nothing left but the man underneath.

Evander looked at River. At the devastation still raw on his face, and the choice River had made anyway. To stand. To use what was left.

He looked at Walker. At the man who had built this place out of his own guilt and called it redemption, and who had never once asked Evander to pretend his own guilt was something other than what it was.

He looked at Brandt. At the marshal who had placed himself between Rainey and a motorcycle club because it was his job, and then kept placing himself there because something about Rainey Beckett had gotten under his skin the way she got under everyone’s.

These men were going into the trees because of him. Not despite him. Because of him.

He had spent eight years believing the opposite was true.

“Okay,” he said.

One word. The heaviest he’d carried in years.

Brandt checked his watch. “Nine forty-three. We move in seven minutes.” He looked at the room. “Gear up. Light and fast. Comms only when necessary. Cole signals, we move. Anything happens to the primary before that signal, we move anyway. Understood?”

Nods around the table. No discussion. No hesitation.

Bear crossed to Evander. Handed him a small field kit. “Pressure bandage. QuikClot. Tourniquet. Keep it hidden until you need it.” His eyes held Evander’s. “And for fuck’s sake, try not to need it.”

Evander took the kit. Slipped it into his boot.

X pushed off the wall. “I’ll get the trucks staged. North approach takes the green Ford and the UTV. East gets the side-by-side.” He moved for the door, then stopped. Turned back. Looked at Evander with an expression stripped of every joke he’d ever told. “She’s going to be okay, hermano. She’s tough. Tougher than any of us.”

He left. The door swung shut behind him.

Jax followed. Silent. Efficient. A man who knew exactly what he was walking into and had made his peace with it years ago.

Jonah stood. “I’ll check Boone. Make sure he stays put.” He paused beside Evander. Dropped a hand on his shoulder. Squeezed once. Left.

The kitchen emptied. Walker went to the gun safe in the hallway. Bear returned to the infirmary. River stood alone by the table, his hands flat on the wood, his head down.

Evander crossed to him. Stopped beside him. Didn’t touch him. Didn’t need to.

“I loved her,” River whispered. “I actually fucking loved her. And the whole time she was waiting for my sister to show up so she could hand her to a man who’d put a bullet in her head.” His throat worked. “How do you come back from that? How do you trust anything after that?”

Evander looked at the wall. At the photograph hanging there—Valor Ridge in summer, the mountains behind it, the men standing on the porch with their dogs at their feet. A family someone had built out of broken pieces.

“You don’t,” he said. “Not right away. You just do the next thing. And then the thing after that. And eventually the trust comes back different than it was before. Or it doesn’t. Either way, you keep doing the next thing.”