“He won’t,” Liv says with quiet determination. “Men like Jax are so confident in their power, they don’t imagine anyone could outsmart them.”
I think of Hunter, wondering if he would say the same about me. The thought sends a pang through my chest. Is he still searching? Has he given up?
“When he comes in,” Liv continues, “we wait until he’s... distracted. Then we strike. Together.”
The plan is terrifying and brilliant in its simplicity. No complex escape scheme, just two desperate women with the element of surprise on their side. If we can overpower Jax, we might be able to use his access to escape.
“It might actually work,” I breathe, a tiny spark of hope flickering to life within me.
For the first time since our capture, I feel something beyond despair—a dangerous, fragile optimism. It’s mixed with gut-wrenching fear, but it’s there.
11
HUNTER
My reflection in the window looks like a stranger’s—hollow eyes, three-day stubble, and a jawline tight enough to crack. Blood stains my shirt cuffs. I don’t remember if it’s mine or someone else’s anymore.
“Negative on the western quadrant.” Blaze’s voice crackles through the comms. “Place is cleared.”
I slam my fist into the dashboard. Four more fucking locations. Four more dead ends. Each one meticulously staged to keep us hunting, to keep me suffering.
“Hunter, we need to regroup,” Penn says from the driver’s seat, glancing at me with poorly concealed concern. “You haven’t slept in?—”
“I’ll sleep when Aurora’s safe,” I cut him off, pulling up the satellite image of our next target on my tablet. The screen blurs before my eyes, and I blink hard to focus. “The warehouse in Brighton is next. Ten minutes out. Have the team ready.”
Penn doesn’t start the engine. “We’ve hit seven locations in three days. Our men are exhausted. You’re exhausted.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.” Blaze’s voice comes from behind as he approaches our vehicle. He opens the rear door and slides in.“You’re making mistakes. That last raid—you went in without proper recon. Two of our men took bullets.”
“They’ll live,” I mutter.
“This time.” Blaze’s tone hardens. “Next time they might not. And neither might you.”
I turn to face him, rage boiling through my veins. “You think I give a fuck about my safety right now? Jax has Aurora. Every minute we waste, he?—”
“That’s exactly what he wants,” Penn interrupts. “You’re playing his game, walking into every trap he sets because you’re not thinking straight. You’re just reacting.”
I know they’re right. Somewhere in the rational corner of my mind that hasn’t been consumed by desperation, I recognize the truth in their words. But that part grows smaller by the hour.
“We need a new approach,” Blaze says quietly. “Intelligence over brute force. Jax is feeding us breadcrumbs, and we’re following them exactly as he planned.”
The tablet in my hand suddenly seems too heavy. My vision swims with exhaustion and something else—fear. Pure, unfiltered fear that I’ll never find her. That I’ve failed her.
“Six hours,” Penn says. “Give yourself six hours of sleep. Let us work the intelligence angle. We’ll wake you the moment we have something solid.”
“I’ll rest when we’re done with Brighton,” I tell them, my voice leaving no room for argument. “Now drive.”
Penn exchanges a look with Blaze before reluctantly starting the engine. The tension in the car is thick enough to cut, but I don’t care. Every minute wasted is another minute Aurora remains in Jax’s hands.
Forty minutes later, we’re approaching a dilapidated warehouse in the industrial district. Rain pelts the windshield as we pull up two blocks away. Our team assembles silently, checking weapons and comms.
“East and west entrances covered,” Grayson reports. “Thermal shows seven heat signatures inside the main floor.”
I check my weapon and move toward the front, ignoring the concerned glances from my team. My hands shake slightly—from exhaustion or adrenaline, I can’t tell anymore.
“Hunter, we need to coordinate—” Ari starts.
