Chapter 67
AVA - WHAT WOULD REMI DO
For a while, there was only silence.
Not peace. Not calm.
Just that awful, bone-deep kind of silence that made your skin itch and your mind spiral. The kind that doesn’t feel empty but charged, like the air right before lightning splits the sky.
I sat in the center of the cabin like a ghost; the USB Gray had given me still clutched in my hand so tight the edges dug into my palm.
My laptop hummed on the table beside me, backup still crawling along in the background.
The gun rested on the couch next to me. I hadn’t touched it since Gray left. I hadn’t moved much at all.
Every minute that ticked by scraped like glass against my nerves.
Where was Gray?
Was Remi okay?
Would I ever get the chance to tell Harlan that I loved him again?
The thought made my throat tighten, a raw ache I couldn’t swallow down.
I closed my eyes and saw it all, the mess that had led us here.
The clinic, the cuffs biting into Remi’s wrists, Jack standing cold and unreadable on the precinct steps, the way Harlan looked at me the last time we were in the same room.
And I could see it all, even though I was still angry, even though I was still hurt.
He loved me.
And if I was being honest with myself, he was still my forever.
We’d figure it out. We’d get through this.
We just had to survive the night first.
I wouldn’t let her win.
She would suffer for this unravelling thread of truth and power and lies and love. Everything we’d sacrificed to get here… I wouldn’t let her burn it to the ground.
That’s when I heard it.
I flinched at the first sound.
A sharp crack somewhere outside.
Probably just a branch, I told myself. Probably nothing.
But the silence after was heavier. Too heavy.
Another noise, faint but closer this time. A soft metallic rattle.
That couldn’t be right.
I stood slowly, grabbing the gun without thinking, my sweaty palm sliding against the grip. Every creak of the floor beneath my bare feet sounded like a scream in the quiet as I crept to the window, just enough to peek.
The trees looked still. Quiet. As they should be.
And then I saw it.
Movement where there shouldn’t have been any.
Shapes, half-hidden in the tree line. Human shapes. At least three, maybe more. No badges. No flashing lights. No ceremony.
Just dark silhouettes moving with slow, deliberate steps.
Hunting.
They were hunting me.
My body dropped into a crouch instinctively; my breath caught halfway in my chest.
Another sound.
Glass. Breaking.
I whipped around, heart hammering, scanning every pane I could see from here, nothing broken. No shatter.
Then another crash, this one from the far side of the cabin. Still no sign of broken glass.
Confusion churned in my gut, icy and sharp, until I smelled it.
Sharp. Oily.
Gasoline.
Followed almost immediately by the acrid bite of smoke.
Oh God.
They weren’t breaking in.
They were setting it on fire.
They wanted me out.
“Gray,” I whispered, voice shaking, spinning back toward the window. “Where the hell are you?”
I searched the tree line, desperate for anything, a shadow, a signal, him.
Nothing.
No movement. No gunfire.
No backup.
And then...
BANG.
One gunshot. Sudden. Violent. And too close.
A shout followed, distant but close enough to taste the danger in the air.
“Shit. Shit… fuck.”
My shaking hands shot for the laptop. Backup complete. Finally.
I yanked open every encrypted folder, one after another, until my fingers blurred. Uploaded the copies. Sent them.
To every address I had.
Internal Affairs.
The FBI.
The press.
Legal boards.
Journalists I’d worked with.
Everyone who’d attended the perp walk for Remi.
Even Gray’s full contact list.
It would be everywhere in minutes.
Even if I wasn’t.
The front steps creaked.
I froze.
Someone was close.
I ran, silent, barefoot, to the bedroom corner where Gray had told me the hatch was hidden.
I tucked the gun in my waistline, slid the USB drive around my neck, and tucked it in my shirt.
My fingers shook as I shoved the heavy armoire aside, every scrape of wood on wood loud enough to make me flinch.
Finally, I cleared it. Found the seam at the baseboard.
My next problem became obvious instantly:
It hadn’t been opened in years.
My nails scraped along the edges as I searched for purchase, splinters biting deep into my skin. “Come on. Come on, please…”
It didn’t budge.
Another gunshot cracked outside.
Closer this time.
Panic made me clumsy, frantic, but I shifted my weight, threw my weight into it, and it popped with a sharp snap that nearly sent me sprawling.
I scrambled in, dragging the hatch shut behind me just as bootsteps pounded across the porch.
Darkness swallowed me whole.
Damp. Tight. Earthy.
I grabbed the gun and started to crawl forward on my hands and knees, choking on dust, the air thick with smoke seeping in from above. Every inhale burned. Every exhale caught.
Orange light bled through the slats above me, flickering like warning signals. Two sides of the cabin were engulfed now.
At the far end of the crawl space, there it was.
A sliver of light.
My way out.
I dragged myself toward it, elbows scraping rough dirt, lungs screaming. I almost smiled when I got close enough to reach for it.
And then I saw the boots.
Heavy. Planted.
A shadow loomed just beyond the gap, still and waiting.
My breath stuttered, panic clawing up my throat.
No. No, no, no.
This couldn’t be how it ended.
Not here.
Not like this.
My fingers reached for the gun, slick with sweat.
I didn’t want to shoot anyone.
But I would.
I had to.
I squeezed my eyes shut for one second, one breath, steadying myself.
What would Remi do?
She’d survive.
She’d fight, even if she had to crawl through hell to do it.
She wouldn’t hide. She wouldn’t back down.
She’d go out swinging.
I curled my fingers tighter around the grip, easing the gun up, moving into position behind the slats.
If I shot his ankle, he’d go down. But he’d scream. They’d know.
They’d know I was under here.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Could I make it back to the hatch? Out the front? Through the smoke?
I didn’t know.
I didn’t have time to know.
I took one shaky breath, positioning myself as best I could in the cramped space, every muscle tight and trembling.
I raised the gun, lined up the shot...
Breathe. Gray’s voice in my head.
I inhaled, steadying.
Exhaled slow.
And I pulled the trigger.
BANG!