Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Gabbi
Bobby was still asleep when I slipped away.
I moved slowly, my breath tight in my chest, every step carefully placed to avoid making a sound.
The sky was still dark, the sun barely a whisper on the horizon, and the cold mountain air pressed against my skin like a warning.
My boots sank into the damp earth, the scent of rain lingering in the air, mixing with the pine and mud.
Everything around me was silent. Too silent.
It felt like the world knew exactly what I was about to do, and it was holding its breath, waiting to see if I would make it out alive.
I didn’t let myself stop. Didn’t let myself think about what I was leaving behind.
About Bobby, still stretched out beside the smoldering fire, unaware that when he woke up, I would be gone.
If he knew, he would never let me do this.
He would fight me, drag me back, tell me it was too dangerous.
That I was being reckless, that I was going to get myself killed.
And maybe I was. But this was the only way.
We had spent a whole day watching the camp, waiting, gathering intel, but we both knew that time wasn’t on our side.
Liam wasn’t on our side. If I had a chance to get inside and get information, I had to take it.
I crouched near Bobby’s pack, my fingers shaking slightly as I pulled a scrap of paper from my pocket. I smoothed it out against my knee, then scribbled a few quick words. "Trust me. I’ll find a way."
It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t a real goodbye. But I couldn’t say goodbye. That would make it feel final, and I wasn’t letting myself think like that. I wasn’t going to die today. I refused to.
I set the note down near his gear, straightened, and took one last look at him.
He looked peaceful, his face relaxed in sleep, his breathing slow and deep.
For a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like if things were different.
If this wasn’t our reality. If we had just woken up in each other’s arms, tangled in sheets instead of caught in a war we didn’t know how to win.
But that wasn’t our life. It never had been.
I turned away before I could lose my nerve and disappeared into the trees.
The hike down was slow, careful. I couldn’t afford to trip, to make too much noise, to be spotted too soon.
The mafia’s camp was tucked deep within the valley, hidden from aerial surveillance, guarded like a fortress.
We had seen it from the ridge, had counted at least a dozen armed men patrolling the perimeter, had mapped out where the tripwires were likely set.
There was no sneaking in. No easy way past their defenses. But I wasn’t planning to sneak in.
I was going to walk straight into their hands.
By the time I reached the edge of the clearing, my heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat.
I dropped to my knees in the dirt, pressing my hands into the mud, rubbing it onto my clothes, my skin.
I ran my fingers through my hair, tangling it, making myself look disheveled, panicked.
Then I let out a shaky breath, forcing my body to tremble, forcing fear into my expression.
I had to sell this.
A voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "Who the hell is that?"
I flinched, looking up with wide, panicked eyes as three men approached from the perimeter. Guns raised. Good. Let them think I’m scared.
"I—" My voice cracked, my hands gripping the fabric of my shirt like I was barely holding myself together. "Please, I—I don’t know where I am. I got lost, I—" I swallowed hard, making my breath quicken, my body shake. "My group—we were hiking. We got separated when the storm hit. I don’t—I don’t know where they are. I don’t know where I am. "
The three men exchanged glances. One of them, a tall guy with a scar running down his cheek, narrowed his eyes. "Bullshit."
I let out a small, broken sound, part sob, part gasped breath, and dropped my gaze, letting my shoulders shake. "Please," I whispered. "I just need help. I—I’ve been out here all night. I don’t know what to do."
One of the men hesitated, lowering his rifle slightly. Scar Face, however, didn’t buy it. He took a slow step closer, tilting his head, studying me. "You lost, huh?" His voice was mocking.
I nodded quickly. "Yes."
His lip curled. "And you just so happened to wander right into our camp?"
"I didn’t know—" My breath hitched. "I saw the smoke. I thought maybe—I thought maybe it was a ranger station or a hunting camp. I don’t know where I am."
Another man, shorter, stockier, grunted. "She’s not armed."
Scar Face wasn’t convinced. "That we can see."
I felt his eyes rake over me, cold and assessing, and every instinct screamed at me to run. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
"Bring her in," he finally said. "Let Victor deal with her."
Relief, sharp and fleeting, ran through me. Step one: get inside. Done.
One of the men grabbed my arm, jerking me to my feet, and I let myself stumble, let myself stay small, weak.
They led me past the outer defenses, past the tents and cabins, past men who watched me with either suspicion or amusement.
I kept my head down, my breathing shallow, my hands trembling at my sides.
Finally, we reached the main cabin.
The man inside was waiting for me.
Victor Costa sat behind a wooden desk, fingers steepled, his dark eyes already sharp, already knowing. He wasn’t old—maybe early forties—but there was something about him, something cold, calculating. His expression wasn’t surprised. It was amused. Like he’d been expecting me.
Scar Face shoved me forward. "Found her outside the perimeter, boss. Says she got lost."
Victor’s gaze didn’t leave mine. "Is that so?"
I licked my lips, forcing the fear into my voice. "Please. I just—I just need help. I don’t know where I am."
Victor leaned back in his chair, studying me. "You’re interesting."
I swallowed, my stomach twisting.
His eyes flicked to the men. "Search her."
I barely had time to react before hands were on me, rough and impatient, patting me down, searching for weapons. They found my knife almost immediately, yanking it from where I had tucked it under my waistband.
Victor let out a quiet chuckle. "Lost hikers don’t carry weapons."
I clenched my jaw, keeping my breathing shallow, my body frozen.
He watched me for a long moment, then finally waved his men off. "Enough. She’s not a threat. Not yet."
The guards stepped back, and Victor gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.
"Sit," he murmured, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Let’s talk."
I hesitated, just long enough to make it look real, then slowly lowered myself into the chair.
My heart was still racing.
But I had made it inside.
Now, I just had to survive.