Chapter 74 Luca
“You sure about the coordinates?” Rafe asked, glancing back at me. His dark hair was tied back, but a few strands kept falling into his face because he refused to cut them. “You looked like you were about to puke when you marked them.”
“Not my fault the scent was buried under about a century of mildew and dead raccoon.”
“You’re the one who insisted we check it out.
“Because it smells like a hunter stash,” I said, pushing past a low branch.
Rafe grunted. “That’s what worries me.”
The cold came fast and I tucked my hands into my jacket pockets and pretended it helped. Another thirty yards, we smelled rusted metal and old gun oil.
I stopped walking. “It’s here.”
Rafe slowed beside me nostrils flaring. “Yeah. Smells like a busted armory.”
His voice dropped. “Where?”
I pointed toward a fallen pine. Its trunk was split open and hollowed out. This looked scraped clean inside and bark peeled back in a rectangle someone once cared to camouflage.
Rafe approached first. He knelt and brushed aside decaying needles revealing the wooden hatch beneath.
“See?” I said. “Told you.”
“You also told me last week that you weren’t the one who broke Coach Peters’ flagpole, and that turned out to be—”
“Unrelated,” I cut in. “Completely unrelated.”
Rafe gave me a look that said he absolutely didn’t believe me but we bigger problems to deal with.
He tested the hatch. “Locked.”
“Obviously.” I crouched next to him. “Can you pick it?”
“Can you stop asking me that like I’m some kind of burglar?”
I raised a brow.
“Fine,” he muttered, pulling a thin metal strip from his jacket. “But only because I hate it when hunters get sentimental about their junk.”
While he worked the lock, I scanned the trees. Hunter caches weren’t usually abandoned not without a reason. The lock clicked.
“That was fast,” I said.
“That was old,” Rafe corrected.
He pulled the hatch open and stale air puffed out. Inside the hollowed trunk sat a cluster of metal cases some dented and rusted. Rafe reached for the nearest one flipping the lid open.
“Holy crap,” I whispered.
Because inside the case wasn’t just old knives or bullets. It was worse. There were trip mines all four of them. Clean, polished, and absolutely not as old as the lock keeping them hidden.
“I thought hunters stopped using these after the—”
“They didn’t,” Rafe said flatly. “They just stopped bragging about it.”
He pulled one out gently, turning it in his hands. I knew enough to see how modern it was and someone must’ve placed it here recently.
“Rafe,” I said slowly. “These weren’t stashed when the hatch was. Someone came back.”
“Yeah.”
“And maybe they’re planning to—”
A snap of metal screamed from inside the trunk.
Rafe’s head jerked up. “Luca, don’t—”
It was too late. My hand had brushed a thin wire and one that was now very much triggered. Rafe lunged, grabbing the collar of my jacket and ripping me backward with a force that knocked the breath out of me. I hit the ground hard and rolled.
Something exploded. It was a sharp crack followed by a vicious metallic whine as shrapnel shredded through the trunk’s interior and burst outward. Pain spiked hot across my forearm. I hissed slamming down the urge to snarl. Rafe was already over me shielding with his body. The ringing in my ears faded enough for me to hear his breathing.
“You okay?” he asked.
I looked down. Blood welled along a three-inch slice on my arm, thin and clean but not life-threatening.
“Fine,” I said, even though my pulse was still racing and my arm stung like hell. “Just scratched.”
Rafe’s eyes flicked to the wound. “That wasn’t a ‘scratch.’”
“Could’ve been worse.”
“You set off a hunter trap,” he said, voice low. “It was meant to cripple whatever touched it. You’re lucky it was old and rigged wrong.”
“Define lucky,” I muttered.
He stood checking the trunk again carefully this time, his eyes scanning the interior for more stretching wires or pressure triggers.
“I’m guessing that’s not the only surprise in there,” I said.
“Nope.” He pointed to a second wire, one I absolutely would’ve missed then another. “Someone built low-grade recent traps.”
“Meaning they’re coming back.”
“Or were here less than a month ago.”
Hunters this close to the preserve meant trouble. Rafe knelt again, inspecting the remaining cases. “We need to clear this before someone else stumbles on it.”
“Or before the hunters retrieve it,” I added.
“Yeah.”
He handed me his pocketknife. “Start cutting the visible wires slowly. Only the ones I point at.”
“Why do I get the wire duty? I already set one off.”
“Exactly,” he said dryly. “You’ve reached your weekly quota. Fate won’t hit you twice.”
“That’s not how probability works.”
Rafe shrugged. “Works for me.”
Despite the sarcasm, his hands were steady as he guided me. We disabled the tripwires one at a time moving with measured care. Every time a wire snapped loose without detonating anything, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. By the time we cleared the last one, my fingers ached.
Rafe wiped his palms on his jeans. “Okay. We can move the gear now.”
“Back to the outpost?”
“Yeah. And we’ll let the others know. This is too big to handle alone.”
I nodded, but my arm throbbed harder as the adrenaline began to ebb. The cut had started dripping again trailing warm lines down my skin.
Rafe noticed. “Let me see,”
“It’s fine.”
“Luca.”
I sighed and held out my arm. He inspected it with practiced efficiency. “Needs cleaning but it’ll heal.”
“Cool,” I said. “Can’t wait.”
He shot me a look. “Stop talking like you’re dying.”
“I’m just emotionally wounded.”
“Those don’t bleed.”
“You’d be surprised,” I muttered.
“You scared me,” he said quietly.
I blinked. “Me?”
“You almost took a bolt to the face or worse. And you weren’t even supposed to be near that wire.”
“I didn’t see it.”
“Exactly.”
“Well thanks for tackling me.”
Rafe snorted. “Next time, duck.”
We packed the disarmed mines and weapon cases into our bags, fast but carefully. By the time we reached the trailhead, the sky had fully darkened. At the SUV, he tossed the gear into the back and finally turned to me.
“You tell anyone you tripped a hunter mine and I’m denying everything.”
I smirked. “Scared of losing your tough-guy reputation?”
“Absolutely.” He opened the passenger door for me. “Now get in before you drip on the asphalt.”
I climbed in. Rafe shut the door and slid into the driver’s seat.
“Hospital or home?” he asked.
“Do we even need to ask?”
He shook his head like I was a lost cause but started the engine anyway. “Fine but I’m cleaning the wound. You’re terrible at it.”
“I’m great at it.”
“You once put a bandage on upside down.”
“That was one time.”
“It was last month.”
I slumped back in the seat. “Are you done insulting me yet or should I trip another mine to make it interesting?”
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Let’s just get home before the woods get any ideas.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Do comment my lovelies, thanks ♥️😘.