“Why? I thought—” My jaw clenches. “I thought you were dead. Everyone said?—”
“I’m not.” He gives me a sad smile. “Obviously. Though I’m getting the feeling you wish I was.”
“No.” It’s immediate. Without thought. And true. Because no matter how terrible the betrayal, there’s too much history between us to want Sawyer dead. “So you’re not dead,” I continue. “Clearly. Did yourbuddies send you? Figure you could kill more of us on home soil?”
Sawyer flinches. “I would never. I didn’t?—”
“You did! You nearly killed all of us. Because of you, Garrett is dead.”
From behind me, a soft voice says, “Alec. Should I call Enzo?”
Shit.
Why did she open the door? Why, when I explicitly told Hazel not to?
In a low tone, I hiss, “Hazel. Get. Inside.”
“But Alec. He’s not?—”
“Hazel.”
“Is this your girlfriend?” Sawyer asks. “Shit, is she your wife?” His hands fall to his sides. “Hey, I’m?—”
Terror grabs hold of my heart and rips it from my body.
Sawyer is a marksman. A sniper. One of the very best I’ve ever seen. And if he has a weapon on him…
“Hands up!” I shout. My gun raises. “Don’t fucking move!”
Reaching behind me, I clamp my arm around Hazel and drag her against my back.
“Alec.” He sounds sad. “Please. Just let me talk.”
“About what? How you betrayed us? How you sold us out? How you didn’t give a shit about us? You’re a fucking traitor, Sawyer. How dare?—”
“I didn’t.” Sawyer takes a step towards me. “Alec. I didn’t. I would never.”
“Youdid.”
“Alec, let him talk,” Hazel whispers.
“Get back inside,” I tell her. “Call Enzo. And don’t come back out.”
“Alec,” Sawyer says. No. Pleads. “I was set up. It wasn’t me. It was that fucker, Harrington.Hetook the money.Hesold you out. Not me.”
“Why would I believe you? I saw the evidence.”
“Harrington used my name. He planned on setting me up the entire time. And when…” Sawyer shakes his head. “I was knocked out. During the attack. I didn’t even know until… Shit. I didn’t know until I woke up in a cell. That Harrington sold us out. That Garrett was dead. I didn’t know, Alec. I swear.”
“Where were you, then? All these years, where were you?”
Sawyer drops his head. When he looks back up at me, his gaze is dark and haunted. “They held me. In that cell. For four and a half years.”
Reason warns me not to believe him. It tells me he could easily be lying. That there was plenty of evidence proving Sawyer was behind everything.
But my heart wants to believe my old friend.
“How did you get out? If what you’re saying is true?”
