Chapter 14 #2
No frogs croaked. No owls called. Even the water seemed to hold its breath, afraid to ripple.
Savvy stood her ground, Gunner less than six feet away now, his gaze fixed on her like he was reading a classified file only he could access.
He hadn't noticed the flare in her hand yet.
Or maybe he had. Maybe he just didn’t care.
“You know,” he said slowly, “when I heard it was you they tapped to lead the 73, I laughed.”
She didn’t respond.
He continued. “Because I knew what kind of woman you were. Always playing savior. Always thinking you could outmaneuver the rot.”
“I’m not playing anything.”
He moved a step closer.
“Tell me—did you ever stop to think,” he murmured, “that maybe I didn’t take over Black Ledger to get rich or to settle a score? Maybe I did it because someone had to burn the system down before it killed us all.”
“You took it because power tastes better when it’s stolen,” she said, voice steady.
Gunner smiled—cold, nostalgic. “You think you’re so different from me. But you’ve got blood on your hands, Savvy. You’ve made decisions that cost people their lives.”
“I own every one of them.”
“Do you?” he asked, taking another step. “Do you own Hale? You think you’re still the good guy because you carry guilt around like a weapon?”
“Better than wielding silence like a shield.”
He stopped now, just at the edge of her reach. His body loose, relaxed—like he wasn’t two seconds from catching a bullet if he made the wrong move.
Savvy's fingers tightened around the flare. One flick. One spark.
“You’re not walking out of here,” she told him quietly.
“You’re not lighting that flare,” he replied, just as calm.
They stood like that—locked in a silent standoff. The whole swamp felt like it might crack in half from the tension.
Then Gunner’s voice dropped lower.
“Because if you do… he dies.”
Her blood turned to ice.
He didn’t say Patch’s name. He didn’t have to.
Her hand stilled.
And Gunner smiled again.
“You really thought I wouldn’t have contingencies?” he whispered. “That I wouldn’t be watching every back door you and your ghosts might try to slip through?”
Savvy’s jaw tightened. “If you hurt him—”
“You’ll what?” Gunner leaned in. “Shoot me in front of your team? Lose your shot at justice just for revenge?”
“You don’t know me at all.”
“I know you better than you think,” he said. “But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you are ready to do whatever it takes.”
The flare was warm in her hand now. Her pulse ticked through her wrist like a timer.
One move.
One lie.
One signal—and the whole swamp would erupt.
But if Gunner had someone else in play…
She needed a beat. One more moment to decide whether this was a bluff—or a checkmate.
A twig snapped behind her. Not from the trees—from the riverbank.
Gunner didn’t flinch. He just faded, gaze drifting past her shoulder.
And that’s when she knew.
She clenched her jaw—and lifted the flare. “Then let’s finish what you started.”
Patch’s wrists burned and bled.
The bastards had tied him to an old piling half-buried in the muck, shaded by a low overhang of cypress branches. The swamp water came up past his boots and reeked of dead things and rot.
Perfect place to leave a ghost.
He shifted just enough to keep working the angle, but the ties were still snug. Still cruel.
The two men who’d jumped him weren’t particularly skilled, but they had the advantage of surprise. They’d dragged him downriver to this godforsaken pocket of nowhere and left him here like a trussed hog.
Except one of them had made a mistake.
Patch fiddled with the blade. The knife—his knife—tucked into his boot sheath, either missed or dismissed. Rookie move. Lucky for him, he’d been able to snag it before the idiots tied him to the post, leaving him as gator feed.
He shifted, slow and patient, first dealing with the zip ties. Then grinding the bindings against the piling. The wood splintered in spots. Old. Weathered. Just like everything else in this damn swamp.
A voice carried over the water.
"They’re late,” one of the men said.
"They’ll come. You don’t walk into the viper’s nest unless you know it’s already been cleared,” the man said.
The guards. Close.
Patch didn’t have time.
He twisted, contorting his shoulder, ignoring the fire in his back. His fingers brushed the hilt of the blade.
Come on, sweetheart.
A grunt escaped through clenched teeth as he finally hooked the edge and dragged it upward. The blade fell—hit the mud—slid.
Shit.
He leaned harder, using the piling for leverage, stretching his shoulder past what any sane man should try. His fingers found the handle. Closed.
The blade flashed.
A few vicious saws later, the ropes dropped away.
He stayed low, breath shallow. His rifle was gone, but the bastards had been sloppy. One of them had slung a sidearm and left it on a crate near the skiff.
Patch moved like shadow—silent, methodical. The first guard turned just as Patch reached him.
Too late.
One hard punch to the throat, another to the temple. He dropped like a stone.
The second man fumbled for his gun.
Patch kicked it away, then buried his fist in the guy’s gut and slammed his head into the tree behind him.
Two down.
His breath came hard and fast now, adrenaline surging.
He didn’t wait.
He grabbed the dropped sidearm, checked the mag, and sprinted through the shallows toward higher ground. Toward the rendezvous point. Toward her.
Toward Savvy.
If Gunner laid one damn hand on her—
No. Don’t think. Move.
The swamp blurred past, a wet mosaic of green and black and shadows that moved wrong.
He was coming.
They'd underestimated the ghost.
And Patch wasn’t just free.
He was pissed.
Savvy struck the flare.
The hiss and burn of it shattered the stillness, painting the trees in angry red light. In the same heartbeat, Gunner moved.
He lunged, grabbing her wrist, but Savvy twisted, slamming her elbow into his ribs as she dropped low and rolled. The flare flew from her hand, landing near the roots of a cypress tree, still burning bright.
Gunfire cracked from the darkness.
Cross' rifle was first, cutting down one of Gunner's hidden men near the waterline. Stone followed, pinning another in the tree line with a sharp volley of suppressive fire.
"Down!" McGuire's voice rang out as he sprinted from cover, flanking left.
Savvy ducked behind a rotted log as bullets chewed bark behind her. Her heart pounded like a war drum, but she kept her focus tight.
Gunner had disappeared into the shadows.
She scanned, eyes slicing through the chaos, until she spotted movement—a shimmer of black darting toward the dock.
"He's heading for the water!" she shouted.
Another figure broke the tree line from the far side of the clearing. Riven. What the hell was she doing here? But Savvy wasn’t about to think too hard on that. Riven moved like a phantom, deadly and silent, zeroing in on a fleeing shooter and dropping him with a clean shot to the thigh.
"You good?" Riven called.
"Go! Gunner's heading for the boat!" Savvy waved her hand. She sprinted, boots slamming into the soaked earth. McGuire joined her, rifle tight to his chest, scanning.
Gunner was almost there.
The skiff engine sputtered to life just as Patch exploded from the riverbank, bloodied but alive. He tackled Gunner hard, slamming him to the planks of the dock.
The boat drifted, unmanned.
Gunner struggled, fists flying, but Patch was fueled by rage and adrenaline. He landed a brutal punch to Gunner's jaw, knocking the man back.
"Thought you could play us?" Patch snarled.
Gunner grinned through blood. "Still can."
Gunfire erupted from the far bank. Another wave. Reinforcements.
"They had more," McGuire growled, raising his weapon.
Riven and Cross opened up from the trees, and Stone flanked to intercept the second group. Savvy ducked into cover beside Patch, who had Gunner pinned.
"Get him up!" she ordered.
Patch dragged Gunner to his feet. The man was bleeding, laughing under his breath like a lunatic who thought he still had the upper hand.
"You think this ends with me?" he hissed at Savvy. "You think I’m the only one with teeth?"
"No," she said. "But you're the only one in front of my gun."
She leveled her weapon at his head.
The last of Gunner's backup dropped one by one under the rain of gunfire from her team. Within seconds, silence fell again—only this time, it was earned.
Breathing hard, Savvy met Patch’s eyes. "You okay?"
"I am now."
She turned to McGuire, who gave a sharp nod. "All clear. We got 'em."
Gunner sagged between them, coughing blood, wrists now bound.
The flare sputtered its last breath and died out in the mud.
But the fire was far from over. The fallout from this would reach far and wide.
Savvy found a tree stump and planted her ass on it.
She wiped the sweat from her brow and let out a long breath.
She glanced up at the remnants of chaos.
The end of battle was always bittersweet.
The gratitude to still have breath in her lungs somehow never made it to her brain as she processed what had happened.
The adrenaline that she’d been surviving on for the last hour flew from her body, leaving her weak and vulnerable. She hated that sensation.
Her brother barked out orders in true McGuire fashion. She wished she could say she enjoyed working with him—with his team—but part of her didn’t. Part of her hated working with anyone she loved. It twisted her gut into something she wanted to run from—and run fast.
It’s how saying goodbye to Patch all those years ago had been the hardest and easiest thing she’d ever done.
Stone dealt with the carnage, and it was a bloodbath. Not so much by their doing, but by the situation that Gunner had put them in.
Cross was busy with the SATphone. She should be the one making calls, but she couldn’t bring herself to do anything but sit on the stump and feel.
And she felt everything.
Patch strolled in her direction. He knelt in front of her, taking her hands. “You look like you’ve seen better days.”
“Just what a woman wants to hear.” Tentatively, she reached out, tracing the bruises on his face, and frowned.
“I’m fine,” he whispered.
“My heart dropped to my toes when I realized they had gotten to you. I thought you were dead. Or dying. I lit that flare because I wasn’t sure anything mattered anymore and where the hell did Riven come from?”
“Riven never made it very far, so McGuire decided to keep her in the fold,” Patch said.
“And getting taken by those assholes, well, not my most shining moment, but if those were some of his best men, well, I’m shocked Black Ledger managed to get anything accomplished because it took me all of fifteen minutes to get free. ”
“I hate when you make light of bad things,” she managed. “Especially when I have to pile more shitty stuff on top.”
“We can talk about whatever later.”
She shook her head. No way could she let Patch go another second without knowing the truth. “Gunner… he admitted…” She blinked out a tear.
Patch wiped it away with his finger.
“He hired someone to murder your parents and Hannah,” she said, holding Patch’s gaze.
His face contorted. His eyes hardened. His jaw tightened.
He glanced over his shoulder, squeezing her hands so tight she thought they might break.
“I should fucking kill him,” Patch mumbled, releasing his grip, shifting his gaze.
“But I’m not even going to bother to give him the time of day.
He’d probably get some sick twisted satisfaction out of knowing he’d rattled me.
Besides, going over there and punching him won’t bring my family back.
” He leaned in and brushed his lips against hers in a short, but tender kiss.
“I’m just so damn grateful he didn’t take one more person from me that I love. ”
She blinked. The faint hum of a helicopter in the background filled the thick air. Soon, this place would be crawling with law enforcement. This battle was over, but the fallout had just begun.
She sighed.
“Hey. This is over. He’s going to prison for the rest of his life.
” Patch jerked his thumb over his shoulder.
“Cross has already reached out to Darius, who’s talking to all the necessary chain of command.
” Patch tilted her chin with his thumb and forefinger.
“You put an end to Gunner, Black Ledger, all of it.”
“You know what all that means, right?”
“I do.” Patch nodded.
She shook her head and let out a dry laugh. “I’m not sure you understand.”
“A year ago, if we were put on the sidelines and not discharged because of what happened with Langley, I probably would have gone back. So, trust me, I do get when the cavalry arrives, you’re getting on the back of a transport plane and dealing with this shit.
” He smiled. “But that doesn’t change how much I love you.
There are Brotherhood Protector offices all over the place. I can work anywhere.”
She palmed his cheek. “You love this damn swamp and I can’t ask you to leave it.”
“You're not.” He lowered his chin. “I’m telling you I want to be wherever you are. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but the biggest one was walking away from you. You’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to me and I’m not making that mistake twice.”
“Hey,” her brother’s voice rang out like a beacon. “Remy and the local Feds are on their way.” McGuire rested his hand on Savvy’s shoulder. “Remy said West is in the air and will be here soon enough to debrief all of us, and… well, contain this shit.”
“Thanks.” Patch nodded.
“I’ll be over there if you need me.” McGuire strolled across muddy land toward Riven.
She wiped some mud from Patch’s cheek and put on her bravest smile. “The only thing I know for sure is that I love you. Outside of that, I don’t know what’s next.”
“No one says you need to.” He gripped her forearms and pulled her to a standing position.
“You have things you need to take care of. I get that. Duty calls. I can go with, or I can stay here and visit you whenever it works until you get things sorted out.” He rested his head against her forehead.
“Just as long as I know we’re together, that you want to be with me, we’ll figure it out. ”
“I do want that, Patch, I swear. I just don’t—”
He hushed her with a kiss. “This is our second chance. We don’t have to rush. All we have to do is communicate. It’s going to be okay.”
She wrapped her arms around his strong body, resting her head on his shoulder. No matter where her future was, she knew it would be with Patch.