Chapter 14
Patch crouched low in the tall grass, mud cold against his stomach, the thick scent of the swamp clinging to his skin like a second layer. He’d taken position along the southern bend, flanking the old cypress stump where Gunner was expected to park his ego and posture for control.
The others were spread out—Cross up in the trees, Stone covering the north bank, McGuire anchored close to the fallback trail in case things went loud fast.
And Savvy…
He forced the thought down. She was the bait. The lead. The plan. She could handle herself—had always handled herself. But that didn’t stop every instinct in him from screaming.
He adjusted the rifle, finger brushing the trigger guard. Any second now.
A crackle in his earpiece. Nothing but static.
Then silence.
Patch frowned. He tapped the side of his headset, listening for McGuire’s check-in. Nothing. He shifted slightly, eyes scanning the tree line.
That’s when it hit him—it was too quiet.
No frogs. No birds. No wind.
His breath caught.
And then the world snapped.
A boot came down hard on his lower back, driving him into the muck. Before he could pivot, a second weight slammed into his shoulder, pinning him. His rifle was wrenched from his grip and kicked out of reach, disappearing into the reeds.
He rolled, swung—connected with a jaw, maybe—and got a punch to the ribs for his trouble. Pain burst in white-hot flashes across his side. A knee dropped into his sternum, hard.
“Easy now,” a voice hissed in his ear. Male. Southern. Calm like a man who enjoyed the struggle. “Didn’t think you’d go down without saying hello.”
Patch bared his teeth. “Tell Gunner he’s slipping—sending amateurs.”
He got a laugh for that. Then a fist.
The world spun.
He blinked hard, trying to focus as rough hands yanked his arms behind him and locked zip ties tight enough to bite skin.
Patch twisted, scanning for the others—no movement in the trees, no glint of glass from Cross’ scope, no rustle to suggest Stone or McGuire had spotted the breach.
Either they hadn’t seen this… or worse, they were already down too.
The man who’d clocked him leaned in. Patch caught the scent of sweat, gun oil, and chewing tobacco.
“You’re the one she came out of the shadows for,” the man said, giving the zip ties an extra tug. “He was right. She’ll do anything to keep you breathing.”
Patch went still.
This wasn’t about intel. It was leverage.
A second guy emerged from the shadows—taller, leaner, with a scope rifle slung across his back and a grin like he thought this was fun.
“Let’s get him in place,” the first one said.
“In place for what?” Patch growled, even as they hauled him to his knees.
The taller one smirked. “Insurance.”
Patch struggled, but they had him cold—outnumbered, disarmed, and cut off from his team. He was dragged back through the muck, his boots scraping against roots and stones as they hauled him toward a boat hidden in the reeds.
And as the engine kicked to life and the boat started drifting downriver, only one thought thudded through his skull with every pulse.
Savvy’s walking into this alone.
And now she’d do it—thinking he was safe.
The engine murmured beneath her, low and steady as the skiff cut through the dark water. Cypress trees leaned in overhead, their moss-draped limbs forming a tunnel of shadow and memory. Fog licked at the surface, thick and heavy, like the breath of something ancient hiding in the bayou’s belly.
Savvy kept her hands steady on the wheel.
Patch’s voice still echoed in her head. Come back to me.
She gripped the words like a lifeline.
Her boots were planted, her sidearm snug beneath her jacket, and every instinct sharpened to a blade’s edge. The others were already in place—hidden in the thicket, eyes on her, fingers near triggers. If this went sideways, it would be over fast. One flare and the ambush would snap tight.
But first… she had to look him in the eye.
Gunner.
The bastard who’d destroyed lives like it was a job. Who’d handed out kill orders like ration cards. Who’d turned loyalty into leverage and left a trail of bodies in the wake of Black Ledger’s rise.
And he used to be one of them.
The river curved left. She cut the throttle and let the boat drift into the clearing where they’d agreed to meet.
Two boats were already there—tied off in the reeds, their hulls casting long shadows in the moonlight.
He was standing on the bank.
Tall. Still. Calm in the way predators always were before they pounced.
Gunner hadn’t aged much. A few new lines at the corners of his eyes, maybe. A little more gray in his beard. But the arrogance? That was still worn like a crown.
Savvy stepped off the boat and onto the muddy bank without hesitation.
“Nice of you to come,” he said, his voice like gravel smoothed by charm. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
“Would’ve been rude not to. You did put a price on my head.”
He smirked. “A little drama never hurt anyone.”
“You sure about that?” She kept her posture loose, her hands visible and every move deliberate. “Locke and Mendoza are gone. You won’t be hearing from them.”
“I assumed as much. They were expendable.”
“Then you’re an idiot.” Her tone was flat, final. “They will be taken into custody. Locke’s loyal, I give him that. But Mendoza?” She shook her head. “He’s talking and you don’t stand a chance.”
“I’m not worried,” Gunner said. “You don’t know my network. You haven’t a clue as to what I’ve been able to set up or how high it goes.”
“I know more than you’ve ever given me credit for.” She inched a little closer. “I know exactly who you are, Morgan Baxter.”
Gunner’s eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. His jaw flexed. His nose flared. And then suddenly, he relaxed, as if the knowledge of his identity meant nothing. He shrugged. “And my previous name matters, why?”
“Because it won’t take much to prove you killed your foster parents.
Murdered Patch’s parents and sister.” She waved her hand dismissively.
“And that’s just the beginning of your sins.
Mendoza will be given immunity for rolling over on your sorry ass.
They’ll offer some kind of deal to Locke, if he wants to start talking.
” She shrugged. “But silence has its own language. You’re finished.
I’ve got you by the balls no matter how you look at it, and what a shame too.
I didn’t want to believe it. That the boy who pulled a baby out of a burning house would grow into a monster. ”
Something flickered in his eyes. Brief. Distant.
Then it was gone. “That’s your mistake. It’s everyone’s mistake.
You think there’s a hero buried in me. But thanks to people like you—people who believe there’s good in most—I’ve been able to rise to the position I’m in, and while you think you can stop me, you can’t. ”
“Don’t you ever wonder what life would have been like if you had a different set of foster parents?
” she asked. “Because I wonder if the system bent you into something else.” She cocked a brow.
“I read all your psych evals. All your commanding officer reports before you joined the 73. There was one comment everyone made, and that was even though you were rough around the edges and were sometimes your own worst nightmare and weren’t leadership material, you could be an asset if only you could shake the anger issues. ”
He stepped closer. Not too close—just enough to test the line between them. “You don’t know shit about my life.”
“Oh, I’ve pulled together a few things and none of it is pretty,” she said.
“Yeah, like what?”
“I know you loathe Patch so much you wanted him to suffer.”
Gunner smiled. “I won’t deny that.”
“So, you’ll admit to killing his parents? His sister?”
“I didn’t do those things.” Gunner laughed. “At least not personally, but money talks.”
She swallowed. Hard. Getting him to admit those things so easily came as a shock. She cleared her throat. “Then tell me why you left him behind enemy lines to die.”
“To make you suffer.” He sighed. “But now all that has changed, and you have my men. What are we going to do about that?”
“Nothing you can do,” she said. “They’re already being transported. You don’t have too many options left.”
“Then why are you here?”
“To offer you the deal of the century before Locke and Mendoza are turned over to the government and you become the hunted,” she said with a cock of her brow.
“I’m listening.”
She took a breath. “You walk away. End the hit. Disband Black Ledger. Go dark, for good. And in return, I bury the evidence I’ve got on a plethora of things you’ve done over the course of your life. You get to keep breathing. And the people I care about stop dying.”
He laughed. “You think I’m afraid of your evidence?”
“No. I think you’re afraid of exposure. Of being dragged out of the shadows and into the light. You’ve built your kingdom in the dark, Gunner. Let’s see how well it burns.”
His smile faded. “And what if I say no?” he asked.
Savvy looked him dead in the eye. “Then I’ll burn it down myself.
And I’ll start with you. Trust me when I say I won’t do it quietly.
I will bring out every bad deed. Every single horrifying thing you’ve done, and you will become the most hated man not just in the country, but in the military and around the world.
Imagine what that will look like. Even the shadowy world of criminals you turn to for help won’t fucking touch you. ”
They stared at each other, two ghosts from the same war walking different paths.
He broke the silence first. “You always were dangerous when you believed in something.”
“I still am.”
Another long beat of quiet.
Then Gunner exhaled. “Let me guess. You brought friends?”
“They’re here for the fireworks.”
“Thought so.” He didn’t seem rattled. Didn’t even glance toward the tree line. “Then let’s not keep them waiting.”
Savvy’s finger hovered near the flare in her pocket.
One signal.
One flash.
One war.
The bayou had gone still. Not quiet—still.