Chloe
She stood halfway down the narrow stone staircase, one hand gripping the rough wall while Doc shoved gently against her shoulder. "Keep moving," he whispered.
"I—” Her voice disappeared. "I can't."
"You can,” Doc demanded. His weathered face softened. "He knows what he's doing."
"No." Tears filled her eyes. "He doesn't."
Doc frowned. "What do you mean?"
"He'll stay in the cabin to protect me." The words came out broken.
"He'll never let them get to me." Doc didn't deny it because they both knew she was right.
Above them, the cabin had gone eerily quiet—too quiet.
The gunfire had stopped, and that somehow felt worse. She heard footsteps—slow and measured.
Someone chuckled, and the sound made her feel sick. She was sure that it was Dante. “So much like your mother." Chloe heard him say. "So stubborn." A lump formed in her throat. She'd never heard anyone mention Vengeance's mother. Vengeance didn't answer his father.
Dante laughed softly. "I suppose she taught you that silence is golden. I was disappointed when she died."
Chloe heard Vengeance inhale sharply. "Don't." His voice was dangerously low. "Don't talk about her."
"Oh, why not?” Dante sounded amused. "You've finally found your spine."
"I found it the day I walked away from you,” Vengeance spat.
The cabin became silent again, and Doc looked at Chloe.
His expression said exactly what she was thinking.
Keep going. But she couldn't—not while Vengeance was up there and not while Dante was talking about his mother like she was nothing.
She climbed one step upward instead, and Doc grabbed her arm. "What are you doing?"
"I'm not leaving him,” she whispered.
His grip tightened. "That's exactly what Dante wants."
"I don't care,” Chloe said.
"You should,” Doc insisted.
"I don't." She gently pulled free. "Vengeance saved my life."
"And now you'll get him killed,” Doc said. The words stopped her, and Doc sighed. "I know what you're feeling."
"No, you don't,” she said.
"I do." His voice grew quieter. "I watched Savage make the same mistake more than once."
She frowned. "What mistake?"
"Thinking he had to save everyone himself,” Doc said.
She looked toward the opening above them. "He doesn't have to sacrifice himself for me."
"No." Doc nodded. "But he'll do it just the same.” A crash echoed through the cabin. Chloe was sure that it was furniture or something heavy. The sound of someone being punched followed. She knew the sound immediately. Someone had been hit. Her heart stopped.
"Vengeance,” she whispered. She took another step upward, and Doc moved in front of her.
"You can't,” he said.
"Move,” she ordered.
"No,” Doc said.
"Please,” she begged.
His eyes softened. "If you go up there, you'll hand Dante exactly what he came for." She hated that he was right. She hated all of this.
Above them, Dante spoke again. "You disappoint me."
Vengeance laughed. The sound was rough, like he was in pain. "I've made a career out of it."
"I gave you everything,” Dante said.
"You gave me nightmares." A sharp crack echoed through the house, and Chloe flinched.
It was another punch, and this one was harder.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Every instinct screamed at her to run upstairs and to throw herself between them, just to make it stop.
Instead, she stood perfectly still because Vengeance had asked her to trust him.
For the first time since Huntsville, she realized that she did trust him.
Not because he was Dante's son, but because he wasn't. The man upstairs had bled for her, taken bullets for her, and thrown himself between her and danger over and over again.
He'd never once asked for anything in return—not forgiveness, not affection, and not even trust. All he asked for was time.
A slow realization settled over her. She wasn't afraid of Vengeance anymore. She was afraid for him, and the thought stole her breath. Another voice echoed from upstairs—Marcus.
"Boss,” he growled. "We found something."
Dante sounded annoyed. "What is it?"
"Savage's journal,” the man said.
Chloe's eyes widened, and Doc's did too. "Oh, no,” he whispered.
Dante chuckled. "I wondered where that disappeared to." A long silence followed. Then the unmistakable sound of pages turning made Chloe's pulse hammer. Whatever Savage had written, Dante wanted it.
After several seconds, Dante laughed—a genuine laugh. "Well—” Another page turned. "This changes everything."
Vengeance's voice was tight with anger. "Leave it alone."
"I don't think I will,” Dante said, and quickly stopped laughing.
"What is it?" Marcus asked. Dante didn't answer immediately, and Chloe wished that she could see what was going on. When he finally spoke, his voice had changed. There was something Chloe had never imagined hearing from a monster like him—shock.
"No.” Another page flipped. "He couldn't have."
Marcus stepped closer. "What is it?"
Dante slowly tore a page from the journal, followed by a few more. "No one sees this."
Panic filled Chloe's chest. "What did Savage write?" she whispered. Doc's face had gone completely white. He wasn't looking at the ceiling anymore. He was staring at nothing, like he'd just remembered something he'd hoped to forget.
When he finally spoke, his voice barely existed. "I think—” He looked at Chloe. "Savage finally told the truth."
The gunshot cracked through the cabin, and Vengeance’s roar followed. It wasn’t a cry of pain, but something worse—pure, murderous fury. “You bastard!”
Chloe surged toward the stairs, and Doc caught her around the waist before she reached the first step and dragged her backward into the narrow passage. “Let me go!”
“No,” he breathed.
“That was Vengeance!” she said.
“I know who it was,” Doc admitted.
“He’s hurt,” she whispered.
“And charging into that room won’t help him.” She fought against Doc’s hold, driving her elbow backward and twisting the way Bowie had taught her. Doc grunted but refused to release her. “Stop fighting me,” he hissed. “Save it for the men trying to kill us.”
Another crash sounded above them, and then Dante’s voice drifted through the opening. “You always were emotional, son.”
“Touch that journal again, and I’ll kill you,” Vengeance shouted.
Dante laughed. The sound sent ice through Chloe’s veins. “You’re in no position to threaten anyone.”
Doc finally released her, only to step between Chloe and the stairs. She glared at him. “You promised him you’d protect me.”
“I did,” he said.
“Then help him,” she spat.
“I am helping him by getting you out of here,” Doc said.
“He’ll die up there.”
Doc’s expression tightened. “Vengeance has spent his entire life preparing to face Dante. You going upstairs gives his father the only weapon capable of breaking him.” Chloe opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t because Doc was right.
Dante wanted her alive, and Vengeance would surrender himself before allowing Dante to take her.
She looked toward the opening in the wall. The passage was almost completely dark beyond the weak light spilling down from the cabin. Rough stone pressed close on both sides, and damp earth chilled the bare skin beneath her torn jeans. “How far does this go?”
“About two hundred yards,” he said.
“Where does it come out?” she asked.
“Behind the ridge,” Doc said.
“Do Dante’s men know about it?” she asked.
“They didn’t five minutes ago.” A heavy thud shook dust from the ceiling, and someone groaned. Chloe couldn’t tell if it was Vengeance, and that made her stomach twist.
Doc reached into his pocket and pulled out a small metal object that looked like an old garage-door opener. “What is that?” Chloe asked.
“Insurance.” He pressed the only button, and a tiny red light began blinking.
“What did you do?” she asked.
“I activated an emergency transmitter,” Doc said.
“Who gets the signal?” she asked.
“Bowie.” His answer surprised her.
Chloe stared at him. “My father knows where we are?”
“He knows the general area. Savage insisted on it,” Doc said.
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Because Vengeance would’ve worried someone in Huntsville had access to this location,” Doc admitted.
“He would’ve been right,” Chloe said.
“Which is why Bowie only knows where to go after I activate the beacon.” Another shot exploded upstairs. This time, no one screamed, and Chloe’s fear deepened.
“How long until Bowie gets here?”
Doc glanced at his watch. “If he was already moving after Dante sent that letter, maybe twenty minutes.”
“And if he wasn’t?” she asked.
“Longer,” he said with a shrug.
“We don’t have longer.”
“No,” Doc agreed. “We don’t.” He pulled a flashlight from a shelf built into the stone and switched it on. The narrow beam revealed a steep passage descending beneath the cabin. Doc handed Chloe the light. “Go.” She didn’t move. “Chloe.”
“I’m not leaving him,” she insisted.
“You’re not leaving him. You’re surviving long enough to bring help back.
” The difference felt too small—cruel, even, but Vengeance had asked her to trust him, and she finally did.
Now trusting him meant walking away while he faced the man who had spent a lifetime tormenting him. Chloe hated every part of this plan.
She turned and started down the passage, and Doc followed closely behind her.
The tunnel narrowed as it descended. In several places, roots pushed through the ceiling, twisting through the packed earth like skeletal fingers.
Water dripped steadily somewhere ahead. Every sound from the cabin became muffled and then disappeared entirely.
That frightened Chloe more than the gunfire.
“What did Savage write in that journal?” she whispered. Doc didn’t answer. She stopped and turned to face him. “What truth was Dante talking about?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Doc said.
“You recognized something when Dante started tearing out pages.”
Doc’s jaw flexed. “Savage kept records.”
“Of what?” she asked.
“Everything.”
“That doesn’t explain why Dante sounded afraid,” she insisted.