Ryan nods, already reaching for his comm unit. “What about them?” He jerks his head toward the shed.
The question hangs between us.
What about them indeed?
“We patch up the wounded one as best we can, then leave them,” I decide. “It’s up to Reynolds to find them when he realizes they’ve failed. Not our problem if they survive until then.” My voice is clinical, detached.
“And Drake?”
I think of what Willow told me in the privacy of the cabin. How Drake watched, participated, and violated her on her husband’s orders. How he hunted her through the storm, determined to bring her back to more torture.
“He doesn’t leave this mountain,” I say finally.
“Why?” Ryan’s eyes narrow, understanding immediately.
“Because he touched her. Hurt her.” I nod once, jaw tight. “Because he enjoyed it. Because some men don’t deserve oxygen.”
“And the others?” Ryan’s expression remains impassive. He doesn’t judge. Doesn’t question. Just nods once.
“Carver seems salvageable—he didn’t know what he was getting into. Give him a fighting chance. Jackson can patch him up, leave him with some supplies.”
“And the last one?”
“Your call.”
Ryan considers this, then nods. “I’ll handle it.”
“Prep for immediate departure. I’ll brief Willow after I handle one last thing.” My voice is even, controlled.
Ryan studies me for a moment, understanding crossing his features. “We’ll be ready in twenty.”
I return to the shed where Drake is secured. There’s a cold clarity settling over me—a familiar feeling from combatzones. The tactical mind takes over, emotions filed away, replaced by pure intent.
Drake watches me enter, his eyes tracking every movement. He’s still calculating, still looking for a way out. That’s what made him good at his job. That’s what kept him alive this long. It’s why I’m going to kill him.
“Your boy Carver sold you out,” I tell him, voice conversational as I crouch in front of him. “Told us everything about Reynolds’s operation. About Kostic. About what you did to Willow.”
Drake’s face reveals nothing, but his pulse jumps visibly at his throat.
“My team is leaving,” I continue. “Taking Willow somewhere Reynolds and his network will never find her.”
“You’re dead, you know that, right?” Drake finally speaks, voice hoarse. “Reynolds won’t stop. He has resources you can’t imagine.”
“I’m counting on it.” I lean closer. “Because when he comes, I’ll be waiting. And after I’m done with him, I’ll start working through his network. One by one.”
“Big talk from a washout hiding in the woods.”
I smile, and Drake’s confidence falters for the first time. There’s something in my expression that triggers his survival instinct—too late.
“I want you to know something before you die.” My voice drops lower. “She told me what you did to her. How you watched. How you took pleasure in hurting her. How you violated her on Reynolds’s orders.”
For the first time, uncertainty flashes in Drake’s eyes.
“I served with men like you,” I continue. “Men who enjoyed inflicting pain. Who got off on power and fear.”
“Just following orders,” Drake manages, but there’s no conviction in it.
“No.” I shake my head. “You enjoyed it. And that’s why you don’t leave this mountain.”
