“She’s never going to forgive us,” Max says, arms crossed, but there’s no edge to it, just a low, hollow truth. “She wanted to fight.”
“And if she saw Bryn?” Dante cuts in. “If she heard Roman was near her? She’d run straight for them. No backup. No plan. Just-” He stops for a second. “She’d try to save her.”
I nod, jaw clenching. “That’s exactly why she had to stay. We can’t afford that kind of chaos. Not out here.”
Ryker and Max exchange a glance, then nod.
It’s brutal, but they know I’m right.
We move faster now. I want this over by sundown. Set the traps, fuck up Roman’s numbers, and get back to her before she tears down the damn house.
“Finally,” Ryker mutters as we reach the river.
“You got the radios?”
Max and Dante nod.
“Go,” I say, and they split off.
Dante takes his position on the overlook where Aspen was supposed to be, safe from the line of fire, just close enough to signal us. Max and Ryker slip into the trees, heading to flank the base from the rear.
I stay behind and start planting the traps.
I move fast. Efficient. Everything’s in place.
Now I wait.
I crouch low, hidden in leaves and shadows, my finger on the trigger, heart slow and steady. My mind drifts to Aspen; by now she’s probably out of that room, door kicked down, eyes wild, chest heaving with fury. But she knows this place. She knows what it means to come here.
If she makes it here, it’s already too late. She knows that.
The radio clicks. Showtime.
I light the first charge, bolt for cover. Three. Two. One.
BOOM.
The blast punches the air out of my lungs, but I stay down. Count the minutes. They’re loud. Sloppy. Screaming as they rush in. Four of them. Idiots.
Four bullets. Four bodies.
Click, click. Another explosion in the distance. That’s Max and Ryker. I wait.
Gunfire echoes in the trees. Then one more click. I light the last explosive; Roman will catch on soon that we’re thinning his herd.
The third blast hits. Only two come this time. Smart fucker. I track them through the brush, moving silently behind them.
Blades out. Throats cut.
Then I hear it. A step too close. A presence. I whirl, gun raised, and she steps out.
“Don’t shoot,” Bryn says, hands up.
My aim doesn’t waver. “What the fuck are you doing here, Bryn?”
“I just want to talk.” Her voice is soft, rehearsed. Submissive.The tone she used back when she sat quietly by Aspen’s side, pretending to be harmless.
“Talk?” My lip curls. “About which part? Betraying us? Leading Aspen to Roman like a fucking lamb?”
