24. Marcus
TWENTY-FOUR
MARCUS
Reign and I race out of the diner and outside into the parking lot.
It’s buzzing with activity as fire crews pack up their equipment. The smoke has mostly cleared now, revealing scorched walls around the kitchen’s back entrance. Local news vans are starting to arrive, and reporters are already setting up their cameras to capture the scene.
None of them know they’re covering the wrong story.
Reign’s truck sits running at the edge of the lot, away from the chaos. He’s been on his phone since we left the diner, mobilizing the network we built for exactly this kind of situation. In our line of work, official channels move too slow. The cops will follow procedure, file reports, and wait for warrants.
Every minute they waste is another minute Lainey’s in danger.
I slide into the passenger seat just as Reign ends another call.
“Just got off the phone with Rich Hunt,” Reign says. “He’s sending a crew our way and has agreed to run offsite tactical.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Hunt? Didn’t one of his guys blow up a town square back in Maine a few years ago?”
Reign nods, already tapping away at his phone.
“The very same. He’s got eyes on the traffic cams as we speak.”
“Can we trust him?”
I don’t like wildcards, especially not when Lainey’s life is on the line.
Reign looks up, his steel-gray eyes meeting mine.
“Rich and I go way back. He was with us in Kandahar.”
That’s all I need to hear. If Reign vouches for him, that’s good enough for me. Still, my fingers drum an anxious rhythm on my thigh as I process this new information.
Reign’s phone buzzes. He glances at it, then back at me.
“Rich just pulled the GPS from Enzo’s car. He’s sending coordinates now.”
The map loads on the dash display, a blinking red dot marking their location. My breath catches as the address registers. Memories of Lainey’s voice surface, soft and wistful as she told me about childhood summers spent on the water.
“That’s Lainey’s parents’ old place.” Something cold settles in my gut. “The lakehouse up by Cooper’s Ridge.”
“You sure?”
“She told me about it last week. Her father used to take them there every summer before her mom got sick.” I remember how her eyes lit up describing those memories. “They had to sell it when the medical bills started piling up.”
“Who owns it now?”
“Some investment company bought it at auction. Place has been sitting empty for years.” The pieces slot together with brutal clarity. “Perfect spot if you don’t want to be found. No neighbors, minimal traffic.”
“How well do you know the property?”
“Never been inside, but I know the layout from county records.” I close my eyes, recalling the satellite images I’d studied after Lainey first mentioned the place. Old habits from my military days never quite fade. “Main house sits about two hundred yards back from the road. Heavy tree cover provides privacy. One access road in, backs up to the lake. Nearest neighbor is over a mile away.”
“Smart choice for what they’re planning.”
Reign reaches behind his seat, punching in a code on the hidden gun safe built into the floor. The hydraulic lid opens with a hiss.
“Castellano’s crew runs heavy. You want the M4 or the Sig?”
I pull out both weapons and check the magazines. “Both.”
We work in practiced silence, falling into a routine carved into muscle memory.
Tactical vests slide over our shoulders. Extra magazines click into place. Combat knives settle against thighs. Each piece of equipment is another step toward getting her back, another layer between Castellano and what’s mine.
Reign hands me an earpiece.
“Hunt’s patched into local frequencies. He’ll alert us if anyone approaches the property. Body armor’s fresh and rated for anything they’re likely to throw at us.”
I slide a backup pistol into my ankle holster, double-checking the straps on my vest.
Reign guns the engine as we hit the mountain roads, taking the curves faster than any local would dare. The SUV’s specialized suspension absorbs each turn like it was built for this. Because it was.
The afternoon sun filters through dense forest as we climb higher into Cooper’s Ridge. My mind drifts to Lainey, to the steel hidden beneath her soft exterior.
She’s so much stronger than anyone gives her credit for. I’ve watched her run that diner single-handedly, watched her handle crisis after crisis without breaking.
My girl’s got fire in her soul. Even now, scared and alone, she won’t give up. Won’t break. Part of me hates that she has to be strong right now. I want to shelter her from everything, to be the wall between her and any threat.
But I know she’s fighting. Know she’s holding on, waiting for me to find her.
“What’s Castellano’s angle here?” Reign’s voice breaks through the engine’s growl. “Why take her in broad daylight?”
I stare at the winding road ahead, connecting threads I should have seen sooner. “The diner. It’s always been about the diner.”
“The diner?”
“That land’s worth millions. Prime spot between Cooper Heights and the mountain communities. Forty acres backing up to national parkland.” The reality of it hits me harder with each word. “Developers have been circling that property for years.”
“And Derrick’s gambling debts aren’t exactly a secret.” Reign’s jaw tightens.
"Enzo probably thinks that Derrick double-crossed him," I say, my mind racing through the implications.
Reign glances over, his brow furrowed. "How so?"
"Derrick's been talking about selling the diner to another developer instead of Enzo. Says he found someone offering a better price, enough to pay off his gambling debts and then some. He even took Lainey to a lunch meeting with the guy a few weeks ago."
Reign's jaw tightens. "And Enzo got wind of it."
"Must have. Derrick's not exactly known for his discretion." I shake my head, anger simmering beneath my skin. "The idiot probably thought he could play both sides, get a bidding war going."
"But Enzo doesn't want the money." Reign's voice is grim. "He wants the land."
“Exactly.”
Rage burns cold in my chest. Enzo Castellano badly miscalculated. He thinks this is about real estate, about forcing a signature from a small-town girl. He has no idea what he’s stepped into. Because no one is taking anything from Lainey.
Not while I’m breathing.
Reign steers the SUV onto an unmarked dirt road, branches scraping against the sides. The lake access runs behind the main property, hidden from view of the house. Perfect for what we need.
“We’ve got movement on the property.” Reign’s voice sharpens. “Hunt’s drone picked up two vehicles near the house.”
“Any thermals?”
“Five heat signatures inside. Looks like Lainey might be in the back room.”
I nod, mentally mapping the approach.
“Kill the engine here. We’ll move in on foot.”
Reign guides the SUV behind a thick cluster of pines, letting it coast to a silent stop. The lake gleams through the trees ahead, the afternoon sun painting the water gold.
“Two minutes to get in position.” Reign checks his comm link. “Hunt’s got eyes on all access points. No one leaves without us knowing.”
I pull my rifle close, double-checking the sight.
Years of training take over as we move through the underbrush, each step silent and measured. The house comes into view through the trees - weathered wood and wide windows, exactly as Lainey described it. A black sedan sits in the curved driveway.
“Front door’s clear.” Reign’s voice comes low through the comm. “Guard’s moved to the east side. Getting into position at the rear entrance.”
I scan the windows, looking for movement. But from this angle, heavy curtains block the view inside. My jaw clenches at the thought of Lainey in there, waiting, not knowing help is coming.
Through the comm, I hear Reign’s measured breathing as he circles to the back of the house. Years of missions together mean we barely need words anymore. He knows exactly how I’ll move, where I’ll be.
“In position.” His whisper crackles through the earpiece. “On your mark.”
I take one last look at the house, remembering Lainey’s stories about summer mornings on that wraparound porch. Her father teaching her to fish off the dock. Family dinners watching the sunset.
No one gets to take those memories from her. No one gets to use her childhood sanctuary against her.
My finger settles against the trigger guard. “Moving in three...”
A door slams inside the house.
The sound bounces off the lake, sharp in the afternoon quiet. The guard on the east side turns his head, hand moving to his earpiece. His moment of distraction is all I need.
I close the distance to the front steps in six silent strides.
The guard starts to turn back, his eyes widening as he registers movement. Too late.
My boot connects with the front door. The impact shudders up my leg as wood splinters around the lock.
Two sharp cracks echo from the back of the house. Reign’s signature double-tap. I clear the entryway in a smooth sweep, my rifle moving in precise arcs as I scan for threats.
A man appears at the end of the hallway, his hand fumbling for the gun at his waistband. Amateur. The recoil of my rifle feels familiar as I put a round through his shoulder. He goes down with a grunt, weapon clattering across the hardwood.
“Tango down front.”
I step over him, registering details automatically.
Expensive suit. Manicured hands. One of Castellano’s society thugs playing at being muscle.
“Moving to main room.”
“Two down back.” Reign’s voice carries the same steady calm it had in Fallujah. “No shot without risk of...”
His words fade as I focus on the closed door at the end of the hall.
The thermal imaging showed Lainey in the back room. Twenty feet of hallway suddenly feels like miles. Blood pounds in my ears, every instinct screaming to run to her. But training wins out. I maintain my pace, checking corners, staying tactical.
“Marcus.” Lainey’s voice carries through the wood, tight with fear but strong. So strong. My heart clenches at the sound. “Marcus, he’s got a gun.”
The door flies open with enough force to dent the wall.
Enzo Castellano stands behind Lainey, using her as a shield.
His arm locks around her throat while his other hand presses a pistol to her temple. Her wrists are bound in front of her with what looks like zip ties, already rubbed raw.
But when her eyes meet mine, there’s no fear. No begging. Just pure, burning rage that matches the inferno in my chest.
“Drop it.” Castellano’s voice shakes slightly, betraying his desperation. “Or I paint the walls with her blood.”
My rifle stays trained on him, seeking any opening. He’s holding her too close for a clean shot. Six years running Cooper Heights’ underworld has taught him enough to know how to use a human shield.
“It’s over, Enzo.” I keep my voice steady, watching his tells. Through my earpiece, I hear Reign moving into position. “You really think you’re walking out of here?”
“Shut up.” Sweat beads on his forehead. His finger twitches against the trigger. “Just shut up and drop the weapon.”
I catalog every detail, searching for weakness. The tremor in his gun hand. The way he keeps glancing toward the french doors. The blood seeping through his sleeve where Reign’s bullet caught him.
Lainey’s eyes never leave mine. Her bound hands move slightly against her thigh, drawing my attention.
Three fingers spread. Then two.
She’s counting down.
“Last chance.” Castellano starts edging toward the french doors, dragging her with him. “Drop it or-”
Lainey moves before he can finish.
Her elbow drives back into his ribs as she drops her full weight, creating the space I need. My finger squeezes the trigger.
The shot cracks through the room.
Castellano’s head snaps back, a red mist blooming behind him. His grip on Lainey goes slack as he crumples.
I’m across the room before his body hits the floor.
Lainey stumbles forward into my arms, shaking but alive. So blessedly alive. My rifle clatters to the ground as I pull her close, one hand cupping her face while the other searches for injuries.
“I knew you’d come,” she sobs. “I knew you would find me.”
Her voice breaks as she presses into my touch. A bruise darkens her cheek, and fury rises fresh in my chest. My thumb brushes gently over the bruise. The urge to kill Castellano again, slower this time, burns through me.
“Castellano did this to you?”
“Yes.” Her jaw tightens, but I feel the tremor running through her. “When I wouldn’t sign the papers. He said no one was coming for me. That no one even knew where to look.”
“I knew where to look.” I tilt her face up, needing her to see the truth in my eyes. “I knew you were here, sweetheart.”
I pull the knife from my vest, carefully sliding it between her skin and the zip ties. Her wrists are raw, angry red marks showing where the plastic cut in. My hands shake with rage at the sight, but I keep my touch gentle.
“Hold still, sweetheart. Almost got it.”
The ties snap free.
Lainey immediately wraps her arms around my neck, pressing her face into my chest. I feel her tears soaking through my shirt, feel the tremors running through her small frame. My arms lock around her.
Reign’s voice carries from the hallway.
“Derrick’s back here, and he’s pretty banged up. Life flight is on their way.”
Lainey’s hands fist in my vest.
“I tried to fight them.”
She pulls back just enough to meet my eyes, fierce despite her tears. One hand comes up to touch my face, like she needs to make sure I’m real.
“When I realized what was happening. But I couldn’t make my body work right.”
“You did perfect.”
I press my lips to her forehead, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo beneath the smoke from the diner.
“You stayed alive and you gave me time to find you,” I tell her. “You even gave me the opening I needed with Castellano. My brave, brilliant girl.”
Her fingers trace the tactical vest, lingering over the bullet-proof plating.
“You came ready for war.”
“Of course I did. They took what’s mine.” The words rumble from deep in my chest. My hand cups her cheek, thumb wiping away tears. “Did they hurt you anywhere else?”
She shakes her head, but I feel her swaying against me.
“No. Just the drugs. Everything’s still so fuzzy.”
I sweep her up into my arms before she can finish.
She curls into my chest instantly, like she belongs there. Because she does. Her weight in my arms settles something primal in my chest.
“Let’s get you checked out. The medical team’s waiting outside.”
“Don’t leave.” Her fingers curl into my shirt, voice small and vulnerable in a way that breaks my heart. “Please. I don’t want to be alone.”
“Never.” I tighten my hold on her precious weight. “You’re stuck with me now, sweetheart. For good.”
She presses her face into my neck, her breath warm against my skin. “Promise?”
“I promise.” My lips brush her temple. “You’re mine, Lainey Daniels. Forever.”