Page 288 of Rangers Mountain Rescue

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Detailed.

Precise.

Marked routes.

Tunnels.

Drop points.

Movement lines across counties… states…

My stomach drops.

“Holy hell…” Briggs mutters.

But that’s not the worst part.

Not even close.

Because written along the edges—

Names.

Important ones.

Recognizable ones.

Political.

Powerful.

Untouchable.

Until now.

Aspen steps closer.

Hand covering her mouth.

“This… this can’t be real…”

It is.

And we all know it.

Then—

A piece of paper slips free.

Falls to the ground.

I pick it up.

Unfold it.

And everything in me goes still.

Because I know that handwriting.

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