The thought burned through me brighter than the pain radiating through my skull. My body was a catalog of damage—ribs screaming from the Russian buyer who’d gotten in a solid kick before I took him down, knuckles split from four separatefights over the past few hours, blood dripping into my left eye from a gash I didn’t remember getting.
And underneath all of it, the strange, hollow weight of having killed Snake. Of watching his eyes go wide with shock as his own momentum drove him onto the blade.
None of it mattered. She’d made it.
Bishop hung back near the tree line, one hand pressed to his broken nose. Blood soaked his sleeve, dripped steadily onto the ground. But his eyes were fixed on me, calculating. Weighing.
“You let her get away.” Oliver’s voice came out low. Dangerous.
I let him see frustration. Disgust. Not that that required much acting on my part. “I let her get away? You fucking drove her to this with your stupid games.”
His next swing was telegraphed—fury making him sloppy. I ducked under it and drove my fist into his solar plexus with everything I had left. He doubled over, wheezing.
That felt good. Way too good.
But I needed to handle this just right. Couldn’t beat him bloody, no matter how much I wanted to. I had to play smart if I wanted to walk out of here alive.
I stepped back, let my hands drop. Forced my posture into frustrated loss.
“This is just fucking fantastic.” I made my voice bitter. “You just cost me a fine piece of ass, Oliver. Can you blame her for flagging down a stranger?”
Oliver straightened slowly, one hand pressed to his stomach. His gaze flicked to Bishop, then back to me. “A stranger.”
Bishop stepped closer, his voice thick and nasal through the blood. “Couldn’t get the plate. Too far by the time I reached the road.” He was still watching me. Still calculating. “Black SUV. Older model. Could have been maintenance crew from the mine. They’re the only ones who regularly use this road.”
“She’ll bring the police,” Oliver said.
I forced a harsh laugh. “Will she? Even if she can find this place again—which I doubt—what’s she going to tell them? Her word against multiple witnesses who will tell a very different story.”
I spread my hands, warming to the lie. “We had a private gathering on private land. She got lost in the woods trying to leave and flagged down a passing car. Confused hiker. Happens all the time.”
Oliver’s jaw was tight, but I could see him working through it. Testing for weaknesses.
“At worst,” I continued, “she sends cops after me. I’m the one who brought her here. I’m the one who kept her in my cabin. If she points fingers, they’ll point at me. Not you. Not your operation.”
Silence stretched between us. Bishop shifted his weight, and I tracked the movement without turning my head. His hand had drifted toward his sidearm he wasn’t supposed to have. Not drawing, not yet. But ready.
I tried to suppress my satisfaction that she’d obviously broken Bishop’s nose. Fought back hard enough to draw blood and buy herself crucial seconds. Something fierce moved through my chest—pride, maybe. Wonder, sure as hell.
Oliver pulled a phone from his pocket.
“What happened to ‘just men and nature’?” I kept my voice mocking as I pointed to the phone. “Thought technology was against the rules.”
“The hunt has rules.” He moved his thumb across the screen. “I don’t.”
“Funny. That’s almost exactly what Snake said right before he pulled the knife he wasn’t supposed to have. Told me you had sensors up all over the property.”
Oliver paused. Bishop went still.
“Snake,” Oliver said.
“Tried to gut me during the hunt. Figured nobody would notice one more body in the woods.” I met his eyes. “He figured wrong.”
The words hung in the mountain air. I watched Oliver process them—the confirmation that one of his men was dead, that I was the one who’d done it.
“Sorry if that’s inconvenient. But when someone tries to kill me,” I said, “I don’t give them a second chance.”
Oliver studied me for a long moment. Then something shifted in those colorless eyes. Not warmth—nothing about Julian Oliver was warm—but a cold kind of recognition.
