Chapter 88
Carter
The first light of dawn bled across the horizon, pale streaks cutting through the fog that clung to the cabin. My body was wound tight, every nerve wired from hours of holding steady, but fatigue never touched me. Not when Harper’s life was on the line.
River emerged from the back room, his face shadowed, his movements clipped. He gave me a nod, eyes flicking to Sable still bound in the chair. “No trouble?”
“None,” I muttered. “He knows better.”
Sable shifted against the restraints, his mouth twitching like he wanted to taunt me again. But for once, he stayed quiet. Smart choice.
Gideon closed his laptop, shoving it into his pack. “I’ve got enough to trace at least three of his accounts. Redwood’s real, Carter. The money trails don’t lie.”
Cyclone came through the door, cold air spilling in with him. “Perimeter’s clear. SUV’s ready.” His gaze cut to Sable, his lip curling. “Let’s move this trash.”
I stood, rifle in hand, my body blocking Harper’s doorway as she stepped out. Her hair was tousled, her face pale from too little sleep, but her eyes—God, her eyes were steady. Brave. She didn’t ask me to stay. She didn’t beg me not to go. She just met my gaze, silent strength passing between us.
I brushed a hand against hers as I passed, a touch quick and fierce, before moving back to the prisoner.
We hauled Sable to his feet, his injured leg buckling under the strain. He hissed but kept that smug tilt to his chin, like even chained and bleeding he thought he held the upper hand.
I pressed the barrel of my rifle into his back, steering him forward. “One wrong move, and I’ll make sure you don’t walk again.”
The morning air bit at my lungs as we stepped outside, the SUV idling at the edge of the drive. The forest was quiet, too quiet, and my instincts screamed at me to stay sharp. Transport was always the weak link—too many angles, too many chances for someone to intercept.
River swung the back door open. Gideon slid in with his laptop, Cyclone took the driver’s seat. I shoved Sable inside, then followed, the metal floor cold under my boots.
The door slammed shut, and the SUV lurched forward, rolling down the mountain road.
I kept my rifle trained on Sable’s chest the whole time. He thought he was in control, thought Redwood made him untouchable.
But he hadn’t understood one thing yet.
I wasn’t fighting for orders. Or for pay.
I was fighting for Harper.
And that made me the most dangerous man in the room.