Weeks.
The word lands like a punch to the gut.
Weeks of waiting while Virgil circles closer.
Weeks of watching Vanna jump at every shadow.
Weeks of knowing he's out there, hunting.
"We don't have weeks," I say. "He's accelerating. The photos of Leah prove that. If we wait too long, he'll make a move."
"So, we draw him out." Maddox's voice is quiet, but everyone turns to look at him. He rarely speaks in church, but when he does, people listen. "Set a trap. Make him come to us."
"How?" Ruger asks.
Maddox looks at me, his expression unreadable. "Bait."
The implication hangs in the air.
I know what he's suggesting.
We all know.
"No." The word tears out of me. "Absolutely not. We're not using Vanna as bait."
"I didn't say Vanna." Maddox holds up a hand. "But someone he'd want. Someone who'd draw him out of hiding."
"Who?"
"Me."
We all turn.
Ounce is leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed, his expression calm.
"Virgilknowsme," he continues. "From the old days. He knows I'm connected to this club, knows I've been clean for years. If I reach out to him—tell him I'm looking to get back in the game, maybe do some business—he'd bite. He's greedy. He's arrogant. He thinks he's untouchable."
"That's a hell of a risk," Ruger says slowly. "If he suspects a trap?—"
"He won't. Not from me." Ounce's eyes are hard. "I know how to play this. I know how men like him think. He'll see dollar signs and an opportunity. He won't see the bullet coming until it's too late."
The room is silent.
I look around the table—Ruger weighing the options, Coin still pale with worry for his girls, Bracken drumming his fingers, and Maddox watching everything with those quiet eyes.
"Itcouldwork," I admit. "But if something goes wrong?—"
"Then I handle it." Ounce meets my gaze. "This is my choice, Bloodhound. My risk. Let me do this."
I think about Vanna.
About the bruises on her throat.
About the baby growing inside her, the baby Virgil threatened to cut out.
About my sister, stalked and photographed, her life invaded by a monster she's never met.
"Okay," I say. "We do it Ounce's way. Set the trap. Draw him out." I look at Ruger. "But we do it fast. Before he has a chance to make another move."
