56. Felicity
FELICITY
The voice outside stayed calm.
Too calm.
“Commander Callahan,” the man repeated through the loudspeaker. “This situation does not need to become unpleasant.”
Trigger snorted from the loft.
“A little late for that.”
Rook ignored him completely.
His eyes stayed fixed on the storm beyond the shattered barn doors.
Watching.
Calculating.
Predator recognizing predator.
The voice continued:
“You have property belonging to Senator Mercer.”
Wolf muttered darkly, “Funny. Pretty sure trafficking kids makes you lose ownership privileges.”
No answer came immediately.
Then—
the man outside laughed softly.
And every hair on my arms stood up.
Not loud.
Not crazy.
Controlled.
Cold.
The kind of laugh that said human life meant absolutely nothing to him.
I pressed closer to Hersh's side unconsciously.
I wrapped an arm around her instantly.
Rook finally spoke.
“Who am I talking to?”
Lightning flashed outside.
For half a second, I caught movement beyond the broken doorway.
Tall figure.
Black tactical gear.
Standing perfectly still in the rain.
Then darkness swallowed him again.
“You may call me Shepherd,” the voice replied.
Trigger cursed softly under his breath.
Rook’s expression hardened.
Apparently he recognized the name.
That wasn’t good.
“Shepherd,” Rook repeated coldly. “Still hiding behind other men?”
The silence outside stretched.
Then:
“And you’re still protecting people you can’t save.”
Jesus.
These two knew each other.
Wolf looked toward Rook slowly.
“You want to explain that?”
Rook ignored him too.
His attention stayed fixed on the darkness outside.
“Shepherd worked private black operations after Afghanistan,” he said flatly. “Until entire teams started disappearing around him.”
The voice outside chuckled.
“Selective version of events.”
“You murdered civilians.”
“They were liabilities.”
The words landed in the barn like poison.
No emotion.
No hesitation.
Flick’s fingers tightened against my shirt.
I could feel her shaking now.
Not weakness.
Pure adrenaline.
Because suddenly this wasn’t faceless evil anymore.
This was a man standing outside in the dark discussing murder like business paperwork.
Rook stepped slightly forward.
“What do you want?”
“You already know.”
“The ledger.”
“And the girl.”
Every muscle in my body locked instantly.
I went absolutely still.
Dangerously still.
The kind of stillness right before violence.
“No,” he said.
Just one word.
But even I felt the threat in it.
Outside, Shepherd’s voice remained calm.
“McDougal.” A pause. “Interesting seeing you again after all these years.”
Flick looked up sharply beside me.
My stomach dropped.
Hell no.
“How do you know him?” she whispered.
Hersh didn’t answer immediately.
And that terrified me more than if he had.
Shepherd answered for him.
“Your boyfriend used to be very difficult to kill.”
The entire barn froze.
Flick stared at me in shock.
Rook swore quietly under his breath.
Wolf looked between them. “Okay, what the hell are we missing here?”
My jaw tightened hard.
“Shepherd ran security for Black Hollow transport routes fifteen years ago.”
Flick looked completely blindsided now.
“You knew about this?”
“No.” His voice sharpened instantly. “I stumbled onto one transport by accident.”
“What happened?”
Hersh’s eyes darkened.
“The girls were already dead.”
Silence crashed through the barn.
Outside, thunder rolled low across the valley.
Flick’s face crumpled beside me.
Oh no.
“I was twenty-three.” His voice went rough. “I tracked the route back to Mercer’s people.”
“And then?” Rook asked quietly.
“They tried to kill me.”
The pieces slammed together all at once.
The threats.
The break-in.
The warning photo.
They hadn’t just wanted me away from Flick.
They wanted me dead.
Because I had seen something I never should’ve seen.
Shepherd spoke again through the storm.
“You should’ve stayed gone, McDougal.”
Hersh stepped forward slightly.
His rifle lowered at his side.
Not fear.
Confidence.
Pure lethal confidence.
“You should’ve finished the job.”
Outside—
red laser sights suddenly appeared through the cracks in the barn walls.
Dozens of them.
Sliding across crates.
Hay.
Bodies.
Then finally?—
settling directly onto Flick’s chest.