The hospital wing in Minot was too bright, too clean, too quiet for what the children had endured. Leah stood just inside the doorway of the pediatric trauma unit, watching as nurses moved between beds with soft voices and careful hands. Children, scattered across the room, were sleeping, sitting upright with blankets wrapped around their shoulders, or staring at nothing.
Greyeyes stood near the far wall, murmuring with a counselor from Black Rock. His shoulders were heavy, his face lined with exhaustion, but his voice was steady. He stayed with the children all night, and he wouldn't leave until he confirmed every child was safe.
Hayes leaned against the counter near the nurses’ station, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room. He wasn’t looking for threats. He was looking for answers. For patterns. For the next step.
Leah approached him. “Any word from the RCMP?”
Hayes shook his head. “They’re still sweeping the Saskatchewan site. No sign of Bergmann. No sign of his inner circle.”
Leah exhaled slowly. “He’s already gone.”
“Yeah,” Hayes said. “He planned this. He knew we’d find the site eventually and left before we got close.”
Leah looked toward the window, where the early morning light was creeping across the floor. “He left the library behind.”
Hayes nodded. “He wanted us to find it.”
Leah turned to him. “Why?”
Hayes didn’t answer immediately. He watched a nurse adjust a child’s blanket, her movements gentle, practiced. “Because he thinks he’s untouchable. He thinks he’s smarter than us and he’s continuing a legacy.”
Leah’s jaw tightened. “He’s wrong.”
Hayes looked at her. “Yeah. But he doesn’t know that yet.”
A soft knock sounded behind them. Elijah stepped into the room, his expression drawn but calmer than the night before. He carried a small bag of clothes — donations from the local community — and handed them to a nurse.
Leah approached him. “How’s Chet?”
Elijah’s eyes softened. “Sleeping. Finally. He asked about the kids.”
Leah nodded. “They’re safe.”
Elijah exhaled, relief flickering across his face. “Good.”
Greyeyes joined them, rubbing his hands together as if trying to warm them. “The counselors say some children may speak today. Some may not for a while.”
Leah nodded. “We’ll take it one step at a time.”
Greyeyes looked at her, his voice low. “You did good work, Leah.”
She shook her head. “We all did.”
Hayes’ radio crackled. He lifted it to his ear, listening. His expression shifted — not alarm, but something colder. Focused.
He lowered the radio. “That was Evan.”
Leah straightened. “What’s happening?”
“He’s tracking movement along the corridor,” Hayes said. “Footprints. Fresh. Heading south.”
Greyeyes’ eyes narrowed. “Bergmann?”
“Could be,” Hayes said. “or be one of his people. Could be someone trying to disappear.”
Leah grabbed her jacket. “We need to go.”
Hayes shook his head. “No. Evan’s handling it. He’s on his land. He knows those trails better than anyone else. If someone’s trying to cross back into the U.S., he’ll find them.”
Leah hesitated. “You trust him?”
Hayes nodded. “With this? Absolutely.”
Greyeyes added, “If Bergmann tries to run south, Evan is the one man he won’t see coming.”
Leah exhaled, tension easing slightly. “All right.”
A nurse approached them. “We’re ready to move the children to the tribal safe houses. Black Rock and Boundary Ridge have rooms prepared.”
Greyeyes nodded. “I’ll go with them.”
Leah touched his arm. “You’ve done enough. You need rest.”
Greyeyes shook his head. “Not until they’re home.”
Hayes watched him walk away, then turned to Leah. “We need to talk about the library.”
Leah nodded. “I know."
###
They stepped into the hallway, away from the children. Hayes lowered his voice. “Those books… those notes… that room wasn’t just a collection. It was a blueprint. A roadmap. Bergmann didn’t just inherit ideology. He inherited the method.”
Leah swallowed. “And he improved it.”
Hayes nodded. “We need to catalog everything. Translate everything. Build a profile that goes deeper than anything we’ve done before.”
Leah looked at him. “You think he’s building something bigger.”
Hayes didn’t answer. Leah leaned against the wall, exhaustion settling into her bones. “This isn’t over.”
“No,” Hayes said quietly. “This was just the first site.”
Leah closed her eyes. “How many more?”
Hayes shook his head. “We don’t know yet. But we will.”
A moment passed — heavy, quiet, full of the weight of what they’d seen and what they hadn’t yet uncovered. Then Leah straightened. “We’ll find him.”
Hayes nodded. “Yeah. We will.”
###
A nurse called from inside the trauma unit. “They’re ready to transport!”
Greyeyes reappeared, helping guide the children toward the waiting vans. Elijah followed, carrying a small boy who had fallen asleep against his shoulder.
Leah watched them go — the children, the medics, the counselors, the tribal officers — and felt something shift inside her. Not relief or closure. Resolve.
Hayes stepped beside her. “We’ll regroup tomorrow. Debrief. Start building the next phase.”
Leah nodded. “And then?”
Hayes looked toward the window, where the sun was rising over the horizon. “Then,” he said, “we hunt.”