He wasn't walking in to sacrifice himself.
He was walking in to win.
Even if he had to burn the whole damn world down to do it.
The SUV rolled to a stop so smoothly Fallon almost didn’t feel it—just the faint forward sway of her body and the soft, deliberate click of the transmission sliding into park.
“Radio.” EJ’s voice dropped to a near-whisper.
The driver handed it back without a word.
EJ pressed the button. “No one touches him. Not yet. I’ll have a word or two before we begin.” A beat. “And hold your fire until I say. I want the old lady dropped clean. I want to see his face when it happens.”
Fallon’s stomach turned to stone.
Linda whimpered beside her, a thin sound crushed beneath layers of gag and fear. Fallon leaned her shoulder in, as close as her zip-tied wrists allowed. “I’ve got you,” she whispered. “I promise. I’ve got you.” Her voice shook. She didn’t care.
EJ clicked off the radio, pocketed it, and looked over his shoulder. “Try not to faint,” he told Fallon lightly. “I’d hate for you to miss the show.”
The driver climbed out. Warm night air slipped inside—sticky, swamp-scented, and too quiet. No traffic. No witnesses. No chance in hell this ended well.
Fallon inched forward just enough to see through a sliver of the door.
Buddy stood outside Dawson’s SUV.
Alive.
Walking.
Steady—though his shoulders held a tension she hadn’t seen since the Ring Finger case. He scanned the tree line like he expected it to spit out demons.
Maybe it would.
EJ opened his door and stepped out.
Fallon couldn’t see Buddy’s expression, but she heard his voice—low, gravel dragged across steel. “Where are they?”
EJ laughed softly. “Tucked away safely in the backseat. Don’t worry. You’ll get your tearful reunion.”
“Cut the shit,” Buddy said.
Buddy’s voice stabbed something sharp and hot into Fallon’s ribs—love, fear, fury, all boiling together.
The conversation blurred for her—not the words, the intent. EJ was soaking up every second. Buddy wasn’t giving him a damn thing.
Then the driver approached EJ, bent in, and whispered something too low for Fallon to catch.
EJ froze.
A strange flicker crossed his face—shock, confusion, maybe even fear.
Buddy’s voice sharpened. “Is there a problem?”
EJ straightened. “There’s been a change of plans.” He drew his gun.
Everything turned to chaos.
Gunfire erupted from the trees—sharp cracks tearing through the night. Bullets spat into metal. Glass exploded behind Fallon’s head. She dropped instantly, dragging Linda with her, curling her body over the older woman’s as best she could. Linda shook. Fallon shook harder.
