This isn’t just about the assassination attempt any longer. This isn't just Council politics or territory disputes or any of the usual bullshit. This is Maeve. This is mywife. This is the woman who looked at me like I was something more than a killer, something worth saving, and I'm not going to let her down again.
I swear to God, if I get another chance, I’m not going to fuck it up again.
With every moment that passes, I think about last night. About the way she felt in my arms. I think about all the things Ishould have said and didn't. All the ways I should have protected her and failed.
I think about what Brennan might be doing to her right now, and I have to physically stop myself from putting my fist through the window.
"Sean." Flynn's voice cuts through the red haze. "I've got something."
I cross the room in two strides. "What?"
"One of our contacts saw a van matching the description heading toward the docks. There are lots of abandoned warehouses there. It's the kind of place Brennan would use—it’s isolated."
I'm already moving before he’s finished speaking, checking my gun, and grabbing extra magazines from a drawer. I don’t want to waste another second. “I tracked him to one of those recently. That’s definitely where he’s got her, then.”
"Sean, wait." Flynn catches my arm. "This is obviously a trap. You know that, right? He wants you to come. He's probably got a dozen men waiting."
"I know."
Flynn huffs out a breath. "And you're going anyway."
"I'm going anyway." I meet his eyes. "She's my wife, Flynn. I'm not leaving her there."
Flynn's quiet for a moment. Then he starts checking his own weapon. "Then I'm coming with you."
"No. This isn't your fight." I shake my head. “I’m not getting you hurt?—”
"Bullshit." Flynn's voice is hard. "You think I'm letting you walk into this alone? Fuck that."
"Flynn—"
"No." He cuts me off. "You don't get to play the martyr here. You don't get to sacrifice yourself and leave the rest of us to clean up the mess. I'm coming with you, and that's final."
I want to argue, to tell him to stay safe and stay out of it. But the truth is, I'm grateful to have someone I trust at my back. And I’ll probably need it.
"All right," I say quietly. "Let's go get my wife."
The drive to the docks takes forty minutes, and every second feels like an eternity. I keep seeing Maeve's face in my mind—the way she looked when I touched her, when she snuggled into my arms.
The way she looked when I admitted she was a punishment the Council dished out to me.
The way she might look now, scared and hurt and wondering if I'm coming for her.
I'm coming, I think.I'm coming, Maeve. Just hold on.
We park two blocks away from the warehouses and approach on foot, moving through the shadows, using every bit of training and instinct we've honed over years of this life. I pinpoint the warehouse I went to last time first, and sure enough, there’s a van parked out back.
There's a single light on inside, visible through the gaps in the boarded-up windows. And there are guards, unsurprisingly—three outside the main entrance. More scattered around, I’m sure.
"There," Flynn whispers, pointing. "There’s a side entrance. Looks less guarded." He looks at me. “This is a trap,” he says again.
"I know."
"He wants you to walk in there."
"I know.”
Flynn looks at me, and I can see the bond forged over decades of watching each other's backs. "We're doing it anyway."
