Chapter 63 Carter
Carter
The SUV roared down the highway, the city lights fading behind us, leaving nothing but black sky and the pounding echo of gunfire in my ears.
River sat beside me, rifle still in his hands, his jaw clenched tight. Gideon checked the magazines on his sidearm with mechanical precision, while Cyclone drove like the devil was nipping at his bumper.
No one spoke.
My heart hammered, not from the firefight—we’d survived worse—but from the weight pressing against my chest. Harper. Every mile we put between us and that yard was another mile closer to her.
But Graves’ words clung like poison. She’ll always be marked.
I clenched my fists, forcing air into my lungs. Not while I was breathing. Not while I had blood in my body.
River finally broke the silence. “Graves is done. But Gideon’s right—this thing runs deeper. Someone else will pick up the contracts if we don’t burn the rest of the tree.”
“Then we find them,” I said flatly. “Every branch, every root. We cut them out before they can send another name.”
Cyclone’s eyes flicked to the mirror. “That’s not just a mission, Carter. That’s a war.”
“Then it’s one I’ll fight,” I snapped. “Because Harper doesn’t spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.”
The words came out harsher than I intended, raw and sharp in the confined space. River’s eyes slid to mine, calm but knowing.
“You’re not thinking like a soldier anymore,” he said quietly.
“No,” I admitted, my voice low. “I’m thinking like a man who refuses to lose her.”
The SUV fell silent again, but the truth of it settled heavy in the air. I wasn’t just carrying out an op. I wasn’t just chasing payback.
This was personal now.
And God help whoever thought they could touch Harper again—because I wasn’t coming back from this fight without her safe in my arms.