The rifle bucked against my shoulder. One of North’s flankers dropped into the dirt before his shadow even hit the ground. The rest erupted like hornets from a kicked nest—shouts, gunfire snapping through the trees, sparks biting off metal.
“Contact left!” Jason barked.
Lane’s deputies opened fire from the treeline, muzzle flashes strobing the night. Bullets chewed bark inches from Zoe’s head as I dragged her lower, shielding her against the rocks.
She shoved me off, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare cage me now.” Then she popped up, Glock spitting fire toward the lake. One of North’s buyers spun and fell, splashing red across the silver water.
Headlights swung wild as drivers panicked. A van lurched backward, tires skidding on gravel. North didn’t move. He stood in the chaos like it was a stage show written for him, smile fixed, eyes locked on me through the storm of gunfire.
And then the man from the SUV raised a hand. Calm. Deliberate. His men surged forward like unleashed wolves, cutting across the line of deputies with brutal precision. Whoever he was, he wasn’t just buying guns—he was trained. Military, or worse.
“Pull back!” Jason shouted. “We need cover!”
I grabbed Zoe’s arm, hauling us toward the rocks along the shoreline. Gravel sprayed as bullets slammed the ground where we’d been. The air burned with cordite, the lake itself thrashing as rounds punched into the water.
“Forest!” Zoe cried, firing over my shoulder. One of the wolves had broken through, charging straight at me. I swung the rifle, too close to aim—until Jason’s shot took the man clean in the chest, dropping him mid-stride.
The comms hissed with Lane’s fury. “We’re outgunned! If we don’t move, they’ll bury us here!”
Zoe’s breath was ragged, face streaked with dirt and firelight. But her voice was steady. “Then we don’t move.”
I blinked at her. “What?”
Her jaw clenched. “We flip it. This isn’t their kill box—it’s ours.”
And in that moment, with chaos screaming around us, I saw the truth in her eyes. She wasn’t just surviving this.
She was about to end it.
Zoe
Bullets screamed through the clearing, ricocheting off rocks and ripping holes in the night. I shoved Forest toward cover, heart hammering so loud I swore North could hear it from across the lake.
“This isn’t their kill box,” I snapped, sliding a fresh mag into my Glock. “It’s ours.”
Forest’s eyes narrowed. “Explain. Fast.”
“The lake,” I said, pointing low. Headlights from the vans cast wide beams over the shoreline, blinding their own flankers. “They’ve boxed themselves between water and a tree line. If we cut the lights and force them toward the lake—”
“They’ll have nowhere to go,” Jason finished, breathless in my comm. “Zoe’s right. Lane—your men, target the vans. Drop the engines, drop the lights.”
“Copy,” Lane barked.
A heartbeat later, rifle fire shredded windshields. Glass rained down, headlights died one by one, plunging the clearing into darkness. Shouts rose, confused, panicked. Muzzle flashes popped like fireworks, but their men couldn’t see what they were aiming at anymore.
Forest grabbed my shoulder, voice low and sure. “On your call, Brewer.”
I swallowed, throat tight, then shouted into comms, “Drive them into the water!”
The team shifted fire, coordinated like clockwork. Bullets herded the buyers toward the lake’s edge, gravel slipping under their boots as panic pushed them back. One stumbled into the shallows, then another.
The SUV’s wolves tried to regroup, firing blind into the dark. I dropped one with a clean shot, Forest another. Jason’s suppressed rifle hissed steady behind us, methodical.
And still—North didn’t move. He stood against the chaos, watching his men falter, that smile carved into his face like the night itself.
The suited man from the SUV barked in another language, sharp and furious. His men faltered but obeyed, breaking toward the tree line. Retreat.
Zoe’s plan was working. The lake churned with shouting men, half their firepower drowned, the other half scattering into shadows.
