Chapter 4 #2
I reach behind my seat and pull an AR-15 from its concealed compartment, then thrust it toward her. "Return fire. Don't waste rounds on the body. Aim for the windshield, driver's side."
"Where are we going?"
"Somewhere that isn't here."
The next volley of gunfire comes closer, and rounds punch through the rear glass but the reinforced panels hold. A bullet lodges in the headrest inches from my skull and another takes out the passenger side mirror in a spray of plastic and metal.
Raven returns fire through the shattered rear window in controlled bursts, aimed at the lead vehicle's windshield. Glass spider-webs but doesn't break. Whoever's chasing us came prepared.
"They've got armor too." She checks the magazine. "Half a mag left."
"Then make them count."
I take the next turn hard enough to make the suspension groan.
A residential street spreads ahead, dark houses and no witnesses.
Perfect for an ambush or a massacre depending on which side you're on.
Behind us, one SUV makes the turn. The others must be trying to cut us off at the next intersection.
"Hold on." I kill the headlights and yank the wheel right, jumping the curb and cutting through someone's front yard. Lawn decorations explode under the tires. A garden gnome shatters against the undercarriage. We burst through a decorative fence and bounce back onto the street one block over.
Raven grabs the handle above her door. "Are you insane?"
"Probably." I weave through another turn, checking mirrors for pursuit. Nothing yet. "You good?"
"Not bleeding. Not screaming. Still armed."
"Good enough."
My phone buzzes again. Knox. I answer on speaker.
"You're clear for now," he reports. "Cameras tracked you through the residential area. You lost them at the Maple Street junction. They're regrouping near the safe house."
"Roger that."
I disconnect and focus on driving. Fredericksburg's streets give way to highway, then to ranch roads winding through cedar-covered hills.
I take a narrow turnoff that most people miss in daylight, invisible at night unless you know exactly where to look.
The road degrades from gravel to dirt to little more than two ruts through scrub oak and limestone.
Raven hasn't spoken in minutes. She just sits with the AR-15 across her lap, staring out at darkness broken only by my headlights cutting through the night.
When she finally breaks the silence, her voice carries an edge I recognize.
"Where are we?"
"Somewhere no one knows about." I take another turn, following a path only I use. "I bought this property under a shell company years ago. There's no connection to the Hollister name."
The cabin appears through the trees with weathered wood siding, a rusted metal roof, and dark windows.
It looks like a hundred other forgotten hunting cabins scattered through the Hill Country, with nothing to draw attention or interest from anyone passing by, if anyone ever did.
It sits in a natural depression that hides it from aerial view, surrounded by scrub oak and cedar thick enough to make it easy to miss even if you're looking for it.
"This is yours?"
"Yeah. Knox knows it exists but not the location. Beckett doesn't even know I have it." I keep my eyes on the road as we approach. "The cartel can tear Fredericksburg apart looking for you. They won't find this place."
"I don't need your protection."
"You've already needed it twice today." I pull up in front of the cabin and kill the engine. "You want answers about the cartel and the ranches. I'm the only one who can keep you alive while you get them."
Raven opens her door and steps out into cool night air that carries the scent of cedar and earth. She turns a slow circle, taking in the cabin, the surrounding trees, the darkness that stretches in every direction without a single light on the horizon.
"Why?" The question comes out quiet, tired. "Why did you save me? Then and now. Why?"
I let the answers race through my mind… Because her uncle called in a favor, and I owed him more than I could ever repay.
Putting her on that plane was the only way to keep her alive, even if it meant she'd hate me for it.
I've spent every year since trying to earn redemption for sins I'll never wash clean.
And then she was standing in that doorway tonight, alive and fierce and ready to fight, and something I thought was dead started beating again.
But I don't say any of that.
I meet her eyes across the hood of my truck and give her the only truth that matters. "Because you deserved to live."
She stares at me for a long moment with her head tilted in that way I remember, assessing and calculating, deciding whether I'm worth the risk.
I move past her and step onto the porch, already feeling the system come alive around us.
The cabin's security isn't some off-the-shelf alarm.
It's layered, military-grade, tied to motion sensors buried in the tree line and pressure plates beneath the steps.
It clocked our approach before we ever reached the clearing, and now the countdown is running.
I key in the access panel beside the door with my fingers moving fast and precise.
There's a narrow window of seconds before the system escalates from passive alert to full lockdown.
Cameras are already tracking us and silent alarms are primed.
If I miss the sequence, we're not getting inside without triggering protocols I don't feel like explaining.
The keypad chirps once, sharp and expectant. I enter the final digits and the override code burns through the system's defenses. There's a brief pause, just long enough to tighten the tension, before the lock disengages with a solid mechanical click and the system stands down.
I open the door and step back to let her enter first, my attention still split between her and the quiet, watchful intelligence of the cabin behind me.
Raven crosses the threshold and stops.
The interior contradicts everything the exterior promises.
Hardwood floors replace plywood, and a stone fireplace with a hand-carved mantel anchors the far wall.
The leather furniture probably cost more than most people's cars.
The kitchen has professional-grade appliances and granite counters, and soft lighting glows from recessed fixtures.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves line one wall, filled with actual books instead of decoration.
A hallway leads to what is clearly more than just a cot and a footlocker.
"This is..." She turns slowly, taking it in. "This isn't what I expected."
"No one else has ever seen it." I close the door behind us and engage the locks. "Make yourself at home. There's food in the kitchen and a powder room next to it. You take the bedroom. It has a full bath attached. I'll sleep out here."
She's still staring at the space like she's trying to reconcile the weathered shack outside with the refuge inside. Her eyes linger on the bookshelves, the fireplace, the details that make this a home instead of just a hideout.
"I want an explanation in the morning," Raven says finally, pulling her attention back to me. "Why my uncle trusts you, what you know about the cartel pipeline, and what’s your connection to all of it."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I walk. And you don't stop me."
I don't respond. I just hold her gaze until she turns and heads down the hallway toward the bedroom with her back straight despite everything she's survived today. I watch her go, knowing sunrise will come whether I'm ready or not.
Explaining everything means revealing how I orchestrated Bo's death, confessing my work with Shadowland, and exposing connections that put targets on everyone I've ever cared about.
She knew I was Bo's enforcer back then. What she doesn't know is how deep the network went, or how many people I had to sacrifice to burn it all down.
The bedroom door closes behind her.
I lock the front door, check the security system, and settle onto the couch with my SIG within reach. The night outside is quiet with no headlights and no engines, just darkness and the knowledge that the cartel is already regrouping and planning their next move.
They'll come for her again. Maybe not tonight, but soon.
And when they do, they'll find out exactly what happens when someone threatens what's mine to protect.
Tomorrow at sunrise, Raven gets her answers. Every last one of them.
She won't like most of what she hears. But she'll either understand why I did it, or she won't. Either way, she's not walking out that door until the cartel threat is eliminated.