She barely hits the ground before he’s on her. A slap cracks her face. Then a fist nails her sides before he punches her in her chest. “Is this how you still plan to sell Talia?”
What the fuck?
Before I have time to process his words, Mikah yanks Sonja’s hair, dragging her unconscious body back to the barn. Griff and Jackson follow quickly behind—Dr. Parks slung over Griff’s shoulder.
“Come on, asshole,” Jackson commands. “You can do your weird shit with your next kill. We’re already behind schedule, Fredrick.”
My skin crawls at the mention of Fredrick’s proclivities. I can stomach a lot of shit, but the shit he likes warrants some serious psychoanalysis.
Four of them disappear into the darkness, joking about what’s in store for the two runways, and I have to fight the need for vengeance coursing through my veins.
This is the part I hate. I can only watch.
Recon isrecon.
Unless your cover is blown, you don’t engage. That’s how you get your shit split in two. It doesn’t stop me from wanting to ignore the rulethat ensures we make it back to base, not in a body bag. And every fucking year is harder than the last.
Massaging my temples, I check the camera feeds, waiting until it’s safe to make my descent.
“What do you mean, I only get one this time?” Fredrick whines like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum.
All they do is argue and kill people. And right now, I wish they’d hurry up and get to the murder portion of tonight’s festivities.
Tensing, Mikah’s nostrils flare, his eyebrows furrow, and his jaw tightens.
I watch intently as he inhales and exhales—each breath pulling him back from the urge to kill them all. “Just like I fucking said,” Mikah exclaims. “You blew half of the Deputy Commissioner’s face off.”
Nodding, I hum my approval. That portly fucker liked to force the wives, daughters, and sometimes even the mistresses of anyone he audited. They either paid him or fucked him, and I do mean fuck him, in order not to be charged with federal tax evasion.
“That shit doesn’t count,” Fredrick argues.
They go back and forth until Mikah snaps, charging at one of his best friends. “Do you expect me to pull a replacement out of the fucking air, Freddy?”
Sliding between them, Griff quickly brings his fingers to his mouth, whistling so loud that I have to remove my goddamn earpiece. “Will you two shut the fuck up?” The order—irrefutable.
“We’ll do what the rules dictate. We have them for a reason,” Jackson adds. The proud peacocks’ chests deflate at the directive. “We let them all go and hunt ’em down until their lights go out.”
Blood thumps in my ears, drowning out the rest of the details. I don’t need to listen—I know these rules.
A smile unfurls on my face as the idea forms, and my excitement grows. If they play this way, I get to join.
“Ten-minute head start.”
“No, five.” They bicker until they finally agree on seven and a half minutes. They spent most of that time bickering about how much time they were going to allow.
Rolling my eyes, I set my timer, checking my weapons for the fourth time when they finally begin the countdown.
A horn sounds, and I sync my watch, but I don’t move—not until screams begin. We’re barely a minute in when the first cry bursts out.
Wasting no time, I shimmy down the tree, duffel in tow. I survey the scene. I’m still insulated by the forest, but I scout everything within my radius and send my drones to monitor what can’t be seen.
“Got one,” Jackson cackles. “Loser has to pay for beers for the next three months.”
Hoots and hollers soon follow.
They are so unserious. But this is how you know they’re untouchable. Only those who aren’t above reproach live in fear.
No law enforcement will ever set foot on this land. It’s why they can leave the bodies to the elements. No one is coming to reap the souls. Instead, they will aimlessly wander, never allowed to find peace and rest. The horrors experienced on the property could serve as lessons in true crime. If the plants could talk, they would speak of the ever-flowing blood and fear that waters their roots.
