Page 33 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets

He took the phone with his bloodied fingers. His vision blurred momentarily, but he pushed it aside and pressed the pre-programmed speed dial for Warden.

The satellite connection took a moment, the silence agonizing.

“Warden,” he rasped as soon as he heard the click. “I’m down. East meadow. Stepped in a bear trap.” He gritted his teeth as a fresh wave of pain assaulted him. “It’s my bad leg, Warden. Deep. Rusty. My foot is history, man. The teeth are into the bone. I’ve got a tourniquet on, but I need immediate extraction. Air-flight to a trauma center, this is beyond field repair.” He could hear Warden’s sharp intake of breath.

“What’s your status? Any hostiles?” Warden’s voice was clipped, efficient, back in SEAL mode.

“Negative hostile contact. Just a derelict trap. My situational awareness was compromised. I failed,” Dog added, the self-reproach heavy in his tone. “Look, Warden. Margaret is here. She’s safe right now, but she’s going to be exposed during my extraction. I need you to prioritize her. You all need to be here for her.

A pause on the other end. “Copy, Dog. I’m already en route. ETA five, maybe less. Thorn is right behind me. Jake and Enzo are mobilizing. But let’s be clear, Dog. You still have a bounty on your head. You are the mission, just as much as Margaret. We’re getting you both out.”

Dog didn’t argue. He knew Warden was right, even if his gut still twisted with the shame of his lapse. “Understood. Just keep Margaret safe.” He ended the call, dropping the phone clumsily back into the backpack Margaret held open.

“Don’t you dare,” Margaret hissed, her voice low and fierce, sharply contrasting her earlier fear. He opened his eyes, surprised by the sudden intensity. She wiped her face roughly, smearing blood across the bridge of her nose before continuing, “Don’t you dare say you failed. This wasn’t your fault, Emery. It was an accident. A stupid, cruel accident. You didn’t fail.”

He tried to protest, a grunt of pain escaping him. “Margaret, I⁠—”

“No!” she snapped, cutting him off, shaking her head sharply. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare tell Warden to ‘keep me safe’ like you’re not the one bleeding out in a damn bear trap right now. You need protection just as much as I do, probably more. Do you even remember you have a bounty on your head? They’re coming for you too, not just to drag me out of here.”

Her eyes, usually soft and warm, hardened and blazed with fierce, desperate loyalty. Her voice cracked with frustration as she leaned in closer. “We’re in this together, Emery. You don’t get to sideline yourself or pretend you’re less important. Not now, not ever.”

He stared at her, momentarily speechless. Her fire, ignited by his self-blame, was raw and unexpected. It sliced through his shame, making him feel seen in a way he hadn’t allowed himself before. It was a powerful, unyielding rebuttal to the voice inside that told him he’d failed.

“They’re coming,” he told her, forcing a thin smile. “Fast. They’ll be here any minute.”

He was aware of Margaret kneeling beside him, her hand tentative on his shoulder. He closed his eyes, trying to manage the pain, trying to push past the burning humiliation of his failure. A Navy SEAL, brought down by an antique trap. It was almost laughable, if it wasn’t so damned serious.

The distant thud of heavy boots on autumn leaves grew steadily louder, accompanied by the muffled crackle of comms traffic. Dog forced his eyes open, his gaze sweeping the tree line. Then, through the golden light filtering through the trees, he saw them. Warden, his face grim, was the first, Thorn right on his heels, weapon ready. Behind them, Jake and Enzo moved like ghosts, fanning out into the perimeter, eyes scanning, already setting up a defensive posture.

Warden’s eyes locked onto Dog’s injured leg, then up to his face, a silent question passing between them.

“I screwed up, Warden,” Dog said, the words heavy with shame. “Let my guard down.”

Warden didn’t chastise him. Instead, he knelt, his gaze intense. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, let’s get you stabilized.” His eyes flickered to Margaret, who stood frozen, watching the arrival of the heavily armed men.

“Thorn, stay with Margaret. Get her to the gazebo. Keep her clear and secure.”

Thorn nodded and moved toward Margaret. But she didn’t move. Her posture was firm, her eyes sharp and unyielding.

Dog chuckled despite the pain. “She just told me off in no uncertain terms. Don’t think you’re getting her to budge.”

Thorn nodded toward Margaret, recognizing immediately that she wasn’t going anywhere. With a slight sigh, he shifted his focus and quick-stepped over to Dog. Without hesitation, he knelt beside him and began stabilizing the injured leg, carefully assessing the position of the trap and the tourniquet already in place. His hands moved confidently but gently, padding around the trap to prevent further damage during extraction.

Warden circled the site, crouching near where the bear trap had sunk deep into the earth. He grunted as he loosened tangled roots and dirt, muttering under his breath, “I thought I found all my grandfather’s traps when I cleared his land.” He glanced over at Dog with a half-smile. “Well, if we are handing out blame, this one’s as much mine as it is yours.”

Dog gave a weak grin, the pain still biting but the camaraderie easing the tension slightly.

“Got it,” Warden said gruffly as he helped to wrap the old steel jaws for stabilization.

Thorn did not pause his work as he glanced up. “We keep it on until surgery. There is no point risking more damage here.”

Dog’s breath came ragged, but he managed a nod.

A distant thrum grew louder as the chopper appeared overhead, circling and searching for a safe approach.

The gazebo’s shadow stretched across the meadow—a quaint refuge that offered safety but no room for rescue. Thorn had carried Dog there moments ago, aided by the others, but now the reality pressed in: no helicopter could land here. The dense trees and uneven ground around the gazebo left no flat clearing wide enough for an LZ.

They had no choice.