The sleeper’s mine.
I come up behind him and put my hand over his mouth before he can make a sound. My blade finds his throat. Warm blood seeps over my fingers, and I lower him slowly. He never twitches.
The one cleaning the gun hears something. Looks up.
Too late.
I charge him, knife low. He goes for the pistol, but I’m already on him, slamming the back of his head against the trunk behind him. Once. Twice. He drops. I finish it with the blade, fast and brutal.
One of the others stands at the fire.
Then I hear the softest thud. A body hitting the ground. Knox’s work.
The standing guy shifts to call out, but the words don’t come. He’s hit. Blade to the throat. He stumbles, gurgling.
The last one sees the blood and runs.
Of course he does.
I catch him before he hits the tree line, tackle him hard. He hits the ground with a grunt, fists flailing. My knife sinks into his ribs, and he gasps, panicked, wide-eyed. His mouth opens to scream, but I cover it.
“Don’t,” I whisper, breath hot against his ear. “Just fucking go quiet.”
He does.
I stay crouched over him for a second, watching the light drain from his eyes. My heart’s pounding, not from fear but from adrenaline. Rage. I wipe the blade on his shirt and push off him.
Knox appears through the trees, calm as hell, already digging through the bag in the middle. “Grenades, ammo, a couple of handguns. Good haul.”
I nod, breath still catching in my throat.
“We good?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He doesn’t look at me. “Let’s move.”
We don’t speak after that. Just grab what we need, check the perimeter, and disappear into the trees like ghosts.
We grab Josh and head back to town.
Time to go home.
Dante
Ihear the whistle before the door creaks open. Max. I know it anywhere.
Kaily tenses beside me, her breath catching like she’s about to run.
“Don’t,” I say. “It’s them.”
Her eyes flick to the door, then to me. I step in closer. She doesn’t relax, but she doesn’t move either.
A minute later, the door opens and Josh walks in. Max and Knox follow, weapons still on them, not a single mark. Just dried blood. No chaos trailingbehind them.
“So?” I ask, looking at the guys.
Knox pulls a bag forward and grins. “Merry fucking Christmas.”
I can’t help the smile that curls at my mouth. Nice.
