“We go in with wave three,” he turns to tell us. “They’ll keep the enemy occupied while we get inside and find our people.”
“Cortéz is capture-only,” Bones reminds everyone. “I’ll carve whatever information I can from him. Then I’ll let Skip have his turn.”
“After that,” Tank adds, cracking his neck, “we’ll ship what’s left of him to every Los Fantasmas branch. A little care package labeled ‘Back the fuck off.’”
“Sexy,” I smirk. “I’ll make sure my last act is cutting his dick off and shoving it in his mouth.”
Bones actually freezes mid-step, then lets out a grunt that sounds like he surprised himself.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “I think I’m gay, because that was sexy as hell.”
Despite everything…the fear clawing at my ribs, the rage boiling under my skin, the drone feed showing my man trapped in a kill box…I bark out a laugh. Hard. Loud.
Because hearingBonessay something like that?
Yeah. That shit rewires your fight-or-flight real quick.
And when I glance over at him, he gives me a little nod.
A tiny, deliberate nod.
AHey, brother…breathe. I got you.
Smart fucker.
Shaking my head, I look back down at the drone footage.
Nothing’s changed…but it’s about to.
Chapter Twenty
Eli
***Three Hours Earlier***
Knuckles isn’t doing well. He’s hiding it, but I canfeelhim fading.
Hours have crawled by. The guard hasn’t moved from his post at the top of the stairs. No shift change. No relief. No distraction. Just him…standing like a statue, watching.
And every minute that passes, Knuckles seems to shrink a little more inside himself.
“We need to go over some things,” Knuckles whispers, voice barely there. “In case I die before Skip gets to you.”
My breath rips out of me.
“What? No. Please don’t…just don’t die.” My voice cracks, and I try to swallow it down. I’m a man. Men don’t cry.
But tears burn anyway.
“Sweetheart,” he sighs…a soft, tired sound that guts me. “I’mgoingto die. I should’ve already been dead. I’m only still breathing because I’m fighting like hell to stay with you. But, Eli…I won’t last much longer. I canfeelit. So we need to go over shit.”
I nod.
Not because I accept it. But because I don’t want him wasting the last of his strength arguing with me.
He shuffles closer, backs me into the corner where the sunlight from that tiny window hits just enough of his face for me to see the truth. He’s pale. Grey. Sweating. Trembling.
How is he even standing?
