Chapter 20
RYDER
Dinner should be simple, quiet, and safe, but it’s the furthest thing from it.
Julian sits in his high chair between us, banging a spoon against the tray, throwing food everywhere.
Kate laughs softly, tired but real, the sound tugging at something in my chest I don’t have words for.
The dogs lie near the table, Ash closer to Kate, Rook positioned where he can see the windows and the door without looking obvious about it.
As for me, I sit quietly, cataloging everything: the wind direction outside, how the trees are too still, and the faint delay between the perimeter cameras cycling through their feeds. Usually, this mountain has a rhythm, but tonight, it’s off.
I shift in my chair, restless energy crawling under my skin.
Every instinct I have is whispering the same thing.
They are going to attack soon. Barre’s son won’t be deterred by distance or time because men like him don’t forgive.
They calculate, wait, and bleed quietly until they can make someone else bleed louder.
The mountain will buy us time, but it will not grant immunity.
“You’re quiet,” Kate observes, cutting through my daunting thoughts.
“Aren’t I always?”
“More than usual,” she insists.
“I’m listening,” I reply.
She studies me for a second, then nods like she understands more than she lets on. “Addison?”
I swallow a mouthful of food I can barely taste. “Everything is already in place. I already verified the Kenyan route and spoke with my contacts.”
“And she’ll be okay?”
“She will,” I assure her.
Kate exhales slowly. “Thank you.”
Julian squeals, dropping his spoon, but I catch it before it hits the floor. His eyes go wide, impressed.
“See?” Kate smiles. “He thinks you’re magic.”
I huff quietly and hand Julian his spoon back.
Kate reaches for her glass, her hand brushing mine by accident. The contact is brief, electric, and grounding in a way that pisses me off because it shouldn’t be. I don’t let myself lean into it or let myself believe in moments that can be taken away.
Just as I am about to take another bite, the alarms go off. Not one, but all of them. The low, layered wail of motion sensors, thermal, and perimeter breach alarms reverberates through the house, red indicators lighting up on every screen at once.
They can only mean one thing: multiple contacts. Fuck!
Julian startles at the sound, lower lip wobbling. My chair is already scraping back before Kate can speak.
“Ryder—“
“Follow me,” I snap, already moving. “Now!”
“Do those mean what I think they mean?” she cries, scooping Julian up in her arms, heart pounding hard enough that I can see it in her throat.
“Yes. They are here. They found us,” I affirm, glancing at the nearest monitor.
Heat signatures bloom across the screen. I count five, no—eight men. All carrying assault rifles, night optics, and no attempt at stealth. This is intimidation, not infiltration. They want me to know they’re here by spreading all over the property, taking strategic positions.
“There’s a safe room in the basement,” I explain to Kate, already heading for the reinforced door.
She hesitates for half a second, just long enough for fear to flash across her face, then she nods and follows. Julian starts to cry, sensing the shift and the sharp edge in the air.
I open the steel door, usher them inside, Ash rising immediately and pressing close to Kate’s legs—alert and silent. Rook is already at my heel, body tense and ready for action.
I look at Kate, keeping my tone stern but soft so as not to startle her more than she already is. “This lock stays sealed until I open it. No matter what you hear.”
Her eyes search mine. “Ryder—“
“I will come back,” I decree, then glance at Julian, whose face is buried into her neck. “I’ll keep you both safe. Keep Ash with you, just in case.”
There is a lot more to say, but now is not the time, so I hold my tongue.
Kate nods, knowing I have her back. “Please be safe out there.”
“I will.”
Our eyes are locked in place until the door seals with a heavy, final sound. I stand there a half second longer than necessary, hand still resting against the cold metal. I turn away before instinct makes me do something stupid, like reopen the door just to see Kate’s face one more time.
Rook is already moving when I do, nails silent against the floor, ears forward, body coiled. He doesn’t need commands—he’s been with me long enough to read the shift in my breathing, the way my shoulders settle into something old and familiar.
I head for the armory hidden behind what looks like a decorative wall panel. Using my fingerprint and a retinal scan, the panel slides open, revealing steel racks of more than enough weapons to take down a small army.
I choose fast: plate carrier first, sliding it over my shoulders, tightening the straps with practiced efficiency. A rifle next, perfectly suppressed, its familiar weight settling into my hands like an extension of my spine. I secure a sidearm to my thigh and strap a knife beside it.
I turn to Rook, who is at my side, waiting. “Alright, same rules as always. Stay close, and don’t break unless I say so.”
His tail thumps once, and that’s all the confirmation I need.
The monitors flicker as I move toward the command station. The perimeter view fills the screens as I watch the intruders through thermal overlays, night vision, and elevation mapping. They’re good—well-trained and spacing themselves methodically—but they’re adapting to terrain they don’t know.
I do, like the back of my hand.
I kill the interior lights, and the house goes dark, glass turning into mirrors, reflecting nothing useful back at them.
This way, the mountain becomes mine again.
I open the rear access and step into the cold, Rook ghosting beside me.
The alarms drop to a low internal hum, switched to silent mode. From here on out, noise is a liability.
I turn toward the dark mountain and the men who made the mistake of thinking this was just a house. They’ve stepped onto my land, and that’s where they lose.
The first man breaches the outer fence, and I let him. He steps into the narrow tree line where the ground dips unevenly, footing treacherous if you don’t know where to place your weight. His boot hits the wrong patch, and the trap snaps.
He doesn’t even have time to scream before the line pulls tight, yanking him off his feet and slamming him into the tree, knocking him unconscious. I end him with a silent bullet between his eyebrows.
One down, seven to go.
The others react fast, spreading and scanning, with their weapons raised.
Rook tenses, and I’m quick to calm him. “Not yet,” I whisper.
I move along the ridge line, keeping elevation and letting the terrain do the work.
The second man drops when I put a round clean through his shoulder.
It’s nonlethal and very intentional. He goes down screaming, drawing attention, forcing the others to break formation—a very big mistake on their end.
With them scattered, I end his life with a clean shot to the back of his head.
I fire again, and the third man drops. Number four panics and fires blindly into the dark, his muzzle flash giving him away. I adjust and squeeze. Blessed silence follows.
Rook launches without a sound when I give the signal—a blur of muscle and teeth—taking the fifth man down hard with a clean cut bite to the jugular. The impact echoes, sharp and final as he goes down.
Suddenly, gunfire erupts from the left, catching me off guard. Pain explodes through my leg, the force spinning me half a step off balance. I grit my teeth and roll with it, as I quickly check the damage. Bullet through the thigh. It should be a clean pass-through if I’m lucky.
Pulling myself upright, I line up the shot and end the man who thought he had me. “Rest in hell, fucker!”
Six down, two to go.
I move faster now, adrenaline burning through pain like it’s nothing more than background noise. Blood is already soaking into my pant leg, warm and slick, but I don’t slow. Slowing gets you killed.
One of the two left makes the brave and stupid mistake of rushing towards me. I meet him head-on, my knife in hand before he realizes he’s too close. It takes one precise movement for him to meet a very quiet end.
Once the last man realizes that he’s alone, he hesitates. I see it in the way he shifts his weight, his rifle wavering. None of them expected resistance like this. They expected a cornered animal but got a hunter instead.
He fires, and since I’m already hit, I don’t move away fast enough. The impact hits my abdomen hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. White-hot pain blooms as I stagger back, breath hitching, vision narrowing.
Gritting my teeth, I raise my rifle and pull the trigger. He drops quickly, and once again, the mountain is quiet.
I stand there, chest heaving, blood seeping through my clothes. Rook returns to my side, panting, eyes searching me for damage.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, though my body disagrees.
The house looms ahead, lights dark, basement sealed. Kate and Julian are safe inside, and that’s the only thing that matters.
I turn toward home and start walking. Each step back toward the house feels heavier than the last.
The adrenaline is already thinning, burning off too fast, leaving pain sharp and insistent in its wake.
My leg protests first, the muscle locking up where the bullet tore through it.
The wound in my stomach is worse. I can feel it every time I breathe.
Blood slicks my hands when I press my palm against it, warmth seeping through my fingers, but I ignore it.
I’ve walked farther on worse and finished jobs with less.
Rook sticks to my side, glancing up at me every few steps like he’s measuring the sway in my shoulders, the drag in my stride.
The porch light flickers on automatically as I cross the last sensor zone. They are motion-triggered, which means all internal systems are still functioning. That’s good—the perimeter held long enough, keeping them safe.
I hit the first step and stumble, catching myself on the railing with a hiss. The wood creaks under my grip, slick with dew. My vision swims for a second, the edges dimming.
No.
Not here.
Not now.
I force myself upright. The front door is right there, just a few more feet. That’s all I need. I reach for the handle, but my fingers don’t quite make it. The world tilts hard to the left, the ground rushing up faster than it should. Rook barks once, just as my knees buckle.
I hit the stone porch on my side, the impact knocking what little breath I have left clean out of me. Pain explodes everywhere at once. The last thing I register is the door inches from my face and the safe room below it.
Kate.
Julian.
“I’m here,” I try to say, but nothing comes out.
The mountain fades to black.