Chapter 29
DILLON
Ishould be sleeping. Normal people do that at two a.m., especially after the week we’ve had.
But I’m not normal, and I sure as hell don’t feel human right now, hunched over my monitors with three energy drinks in me, my eyes burning and my fingers flying across the keyboard like they’re trying to outrun the dread tightening in my gut.
For hours, I’ve been combing through every dark-web channel, burner forum, encrypted dump, and the criminal group chats Caruso’s goons crawl into when they need something dirty done fast.
Ninety-nine percent of it is trash. Drug deals, escorts, stolen crypto wallets.
But then a post pops up on one of their smaller, invitation-only boards, and my stomach turns to concrete.
Looking for local muscle. One-night job. Hunting expedition. $50K each. Serious inquiries only.
Hunting expedition? Jesus. They aren’t even subtle about it. That is definitely a hit.
As I stare at it, another message rolls through an encrypted relay I tapped days ago.
The package is en route. Wait for arrival before breaching.
Package. That is never a good word when criminals use it, and with Caruso, it likely means someone important is on their way. Someone high-ranking who wants to be front row for whatever they plan to do to her.
A zap of cold, electric fear runs down my spine. They aren’t merely circling or threatening. It’s already two a.m., technically morning, which puts it at tomorrow night. Roughly forty-eight hours from now. Maybe a bit less.
I shove back from my desk hard enough that one of my empty cans topples onto the floor, but I don’t even look at it. I’m already moving. Chance is with Roxie, sleeping with her tucked under his chin like she’s the heartbeat keeping him alive, so waking him isn’t an option.
Besides, he needs rest more than any of us, and Roxie needs him to be the one beside her right now. So I go to Boone, pushing into his room without knocking, reaching over and shaking his shoulder. “Boone. Boone. Wake up.”
He startles awake in half a second, combat-reflex fast. His eyes lock on mine, and whatever he sees there wakes him instantly. “What happened?”
“They’re coming.” My voice sounds rough, even to me. “Tomorrow night. Job postings went out for hired guns. They’re calling it a hunt. Fifty grand each. There was another message indicating someone higher up is on the way. Maybe even Caruso himself.”
He shoots fully upright before scrubbing a hand over his face. “We have to get Roxie out. Tonight. Before—”
“No.” The word is out before I even know I’ve decided it. “No, man. Your thinking is too linear.”
He frowns at me like I’ve spoken Klingon. “If we move her, they’re likely to either see us or find out. They’ve been watching the property for days. They’ll shadow us, ambush us, and cut us off. We’d walk her right into danger,” I say.
Boone clenches his jaw hard. “So, you just want to keep her here? Right out in the open in a place where they already know she’s living?”
“Not out in the open.” I shake my head, forcing the logic through even though fear claws at my ribs. “Here, we control the game. We know the layout. We’ve got defenses, cameras, weapons, and choke points. We have a fighting chance, especially with the cops knowing what’s going on.”
He hesitates just for a second, but I see the moment he accepts the truth. His shoulders drop and his breath leaves him in a slow, controlled exhale. “Yeah, okay. It’s safer to keep her with us, but we could all go somewhere together, too.”
A beat passes before I finally manage to shake my head. “I’ve thought about that, but they’ll just keep coming, and God only knows what they could plant in the house while we’re not here. Even if we sell and never come back, they’ll just find her again. Running isn’t going to work.”
“Fine, but if we stay and fight,” his eyes are dead serious, locked on mine, “we do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”
I know what he means even though he doesn’t say the words. Hell, I’ve known long before tonight. There isn’t a single scenario where any of us lets something happen to Roxie. We’d die first.
I look toward the stairs, knowing Chance is probably wrapped around her like a human shield, and that he’d tear the world in half before he let it touch her. “Yeah, we will. I guess it’s a good thing he insisted on giving me a little training, huh?”
Boone claps a hand on my shoulder. “You’re not bad with a gun, bro. You’re just better with a keyboard. But unless you break it over someone’s head, it’s probably going to be pretty useless once they get here.”
“Fair enough, but at least we know when to expect them.” The next steps fall into place like a grim little checklist. “We should get the safe room ready for her. Now would be best.”
Boone lets out a groan. “Yeah. We built the damn thing for a reason. At least we’ll finally get to use it, right?”
“Right.” Years ago, we poured concrete, installed a reinforced steel door and separate filtration. We connected a backup generator, set up independent comms, and keep it stocked with its own bottled water and nonperishable supplies.
It’s a fortress in the bones of the house that can’t be found on any plans or blueprints. Chance insisted we might need something like it one day, and it looks like he was right.
Boone and I never thought we’d use it. Frankly, I considered turning it into a very expensive storage room more than a few times, but we spent the next hour clearing the path to it, checking the supplies, and running drills between rooms.
It’s all a blur of motion lit by the cold blue glow of monitors and Boone’s phone flashlight. By the time exhaustion finally drags us toward sleep, it’s close to dawn.
Morning hits fast, and when Roxie wakes up, we don’t lie or soften the blow. Instead, we treat her the way she deserves to be treated, like an equal.
We sit her down next to Chance in the kitchen and give them the lowdown at the same time. Roxie is in one of my hoodies, her hair still sleep-mussed, her eyes wide but not panicked as we lay out everything we know.
“They’re coming tomorrow night,” I say evenly. “Locals have been hired for the hit, but someone from Caruso’s organization seems to be inbound, too.”
She doesn’t cry or break. She doesn’t even look away. All she does is swallow once, swipe her tongue across her lips, and nod. “What do you need from me?”
I lean on the counter, my eyes focused entirely on hers. “When we tell you to go to the safe room, you go. No hesitation. No arguing. Even if you think you shouldn’t.”
Boone adds, “Especially if you think you shouldn’t.”
Chance rests a hand on the back of her chair. “Once you’re inside, you stay put. No matter what you hear.”
A shadow flickers across her face at that before she nods again. “Okay. Show me where I’m going.”
Chance takes her hand and leads her to the safe room, showing her around before we take her back to her bedroom and make her run the route. Then again. And again, in the dark with the hallway lights off.
Boone times her, not letting her stop until she knows the way there well enough to reach it in under thirty seconds. Roxie curses him by the end, but her time is twenty-eight seconds, and I’ve never been prouder.
The rest of the day goes to preparation of silent, intense, and methodical work.
Chance reinforces the blinds on the ground floor.
Boone runs perimeter checks. I reconfigure our camera feeds into a single, rolling split-screen and back everything up on a separate hard drive in case they try to jam the signal.
Between tasks, we take turns sticking to Roxie like glue, but as dusk slides in, Boone makes a call none of us expect. “Family dinner. We’ll act like everything is normal, eat good food, and fucking live our lives for an hour.”
Chance gives him a look like he’s grown two heads. I’m leaning toward agreeing with him until Roxie smiles. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like madness. It feels necessary.
A little while later, we sit down to chicken parmesan, garlic bread, and salad. The smell alone loosens the knots in my shoulders, and none of us brings up anything that makes my muscles tense again for the rest of dinner.
Instead, we talk about nursery colors, whether the twins will have her eyes, and how much I hate that stupid singing Christmas moose decoration in town.
Boone insists he’d have had the nursery done by now if we’d just left him to it.
Chance teases him for sounding cocky. Roxie laughs for the first time all day.
I find myself saying, “When this is over, I’m making chocolate cake. That one with the expensive cocoa.”
We clean up together in the shower, but disappointingly, that’s all it is. Then we all crawl into Boone’s massive bed, the four of us tangled up with her tucked safely among us.
For just those few hours, we pretend the world isn’t waiting outside with blood on its agenda, but the peace doesn’t last much longer. Around midnight, my laptop chimes, a small, sharp electronic sound that slices straight through my sleep.
My eyes snap open, my heart instantly hammering. I lunge out of bed and cross the room in three strides. One look at the screen tells me everything I need to know.
Encrypted message update: Schedule change. Moving tonight. ETA: 00:56.
I glance at the watch on my wrist. Holy fuck, that’s less than an hour.
My stomach bottoms out, but adrenaline surges through me. “Guys. Guys, you need to wake up. Now.”
Chance is already on his feet. Boone jerks upright, reaching instinctively for the weapon under the mattress. Roxie startles awake, her eyes huge. “What’s wrong?”
I meet her gaze. “They’re coming. Tonight instead of tomorrow. They’ve moved up the attack. We’ve got forty-five minutes before they’ll be here.”