River pulled a chair around, sitting across from him, calm as a judge. Gideon hovered at the table, laptop open, waiting to cross-check every word. Cyclone stayed by the door, his hand flexing against the grip of his sidearm like he was praying for an excuse to pull it.
And me—I stood right in front of Sable, rifle lowered but ready, every nerve strung tight. Harper was just behind me. I didn’t need to look to know; I could feel her eyes on me, feel the tremor of her breath. She shouldn’t have been in the room for this. But I’d promised her the truth, and I wasn’t breaking that vow.
River spoke first, voice steady. “You’ve got a choice. Talk, and maybe you keep breathing. Stay silent, and Carter here makes sure you don’t.”
Sable chuckled low, shaking his head. “Your threats don’t work on me? They might have worked on Graves now he’s rotting, rotting in the grave.”
My boot slammed into the leg of the chair, knocking it back against the wall. His smirk slipped when I leaned down, my face inches from his. “You’ve got thirty seconds to start giving me names before I put another bullet in you. And trust me—it won’t be a clean one this time.”
His eyes flicked to Harper then, like he wanted to see if he could rattle me by using her. Wrong move.
I pressed the rifle muzzle against his collarbone until he hissed in pain. “Look at me. Only me. If you so much as glance at her again, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”
For the first time, he swallowed. The smirk faltered.
“Fine,” he spat. “You want names? Accounts? I’ll give you something. But you won’t like what you find. Because this doesn’t end with me—or with Harper. This runs higher. Deeper. And when you see who’s really pulling the strings…” He leaned forward, his voice dropping low. “You’ll wish you’d killed me when you had the chance.”
The silence that followed was heavy, thick with more than just threats.
I stepped back, jaw clenched, rifle steady. “Then start talking.”
Because whatever storm was waiting, I wasn’t letting it touch her. Not while I was breathing.
84
Carter
Sable shifted in the chair, his breathing ragged from blood loss, but his eyes still glinted with that infuriating arrogance. He wanted control. He wanted to make this his stage.
Not tonight.
“Start with the accounts,” I said, my voice like steel. “Who funds you?”
A dry laugh slipped from his throat. “You think small, soldier. It’s not aboutwho funds me.It’s about who profits. Politicians, bankers, men in uniforms with medals on their chest. Cut off one head, three more grow back.”
River’s eyes narrowed. “Names.”
Sable’s smile sharpened. “Too many to count. But you’ve heard of Redwood, haven’t you?”
The room stilled. Even Gideon’s typing faltered.
I knew that name. Everyone in our world did. Redwood wasn’t a person—it was a project. A ghost network, whispered about in black sites and safe houses. Smuggling. Trafficking. A web too wide to kill clean.
My jaw locked. “Redwood’s a myth.”
“No,” Sable said, his grin stretching thin. “Redwood is real. And Harper? She’s leverage. Her fear feeds the machine. Heroes like you, desperate to protect—always the easiest to manipulate.”
I shoved the rifle harder against his chest until he gasped. “Say her name again, and I’ll make sure you never speak another word.”
He coughed, chuckling even through the pain. “You can’t stop Redwood. But you’ll try. And when you do, you’ll see how deep this runs. How high.”
Behind me, I felt Harper’s presence tighten like a wire. She didn’t speak, but I knew she’d heard every word.
River broke the silence, his tone grim. “We’ve got enough. Gideon, cross-reference Redwood with his accounts. See where the trail leads.”
Sable leaned back, blood dripping down his wrist where the zip ties cut into flesh, his voice a hiss. “You think you’re protecting her. But you’ve already lost. Because the moment she was marked, she became the one thing you can’t live without—and the one thing we’ll never stop hunting.”
I leaned in close, my fury cold and sharp now. “Then hunt all you want. Because I’ll never stop killing you back.”
