Naomi's eyes find mine across the room, full of questions I never wanted to answer. Not like this. I see her breathing change, becoming more controlled. She's preparing herself for whatever comes next. God, she's brave.
"Logan," I say quietly, "this is between us. It always has been."
"No," he replies, his voice suddenly harsh. "It could have been. We were teammates. But you left me to be ripped apart by the enemy. Because of your bleeding heart. Your weak stomach for what we did and who we are. Because you care.” He spits that last word out like it’s covered in poison. “Now I'm going to use that against you." He glances at Maude. "Take her to the back. I need to get my tools before I can start operating on her."
Maude hesitates for a moment. I can see she doesn’t like what she’s hearing, but she’d be foolish to go against Logan. I have to wait. If there’s no opening, there’s no hope. Time slows as my hand reaches for the remote detonator in my pocket—the contingency plan I set up last night. My thumb hovers over the button. It’ll only be a split second. And then it happens, Maude gives in and pulls at Naomi—the gun lifting from her head. Logan's eyes narrow as he reads my intent a fraction of a second too late.
I press the button.
The kitchen erupts behind him with a deafening roar. The blast hurls Logan forward across the counter, plates andcoffee mugs shattering around him. The concussion wave slams into my chest, but I'm braced for it. Maude's grip on Naomi loosens in the shock. Naomi doesn't hesitate. She drives her elbow hard into Maude's stomach, then twists away as the woman doubles over.
I'm already moving, snatching the receipt spike from the counter. The cook starts to recover, lurching toward me with murder in his eyes. I swing the spike at his neck and it enters with ease, and hot blood sprays across my hand. I don't watch him fall but instead go to Naomi.
Outside, secondary explosions rock the quiet town as the charges I planted on the trucks detonate in sequence. Thick black smoke billows into the morning sky, and panicked shouts fill the air. I grab Naomi's hand, her skin cool against my blood-slicked palm.
"You okay?" I ask, pulling her toward the door.
She nods, eyes wide.
I peek outside. The smoke provides decent cover, but men are scrambling everywhere, some with weapons drawn.
My truck is too far, and even if we reached it, we'd be easy targets on these flat, open roads. Logan won't stay down for long, and when he comes to, he'll be out for blood.
A gunshot cracks through the air, the bullet splintering the doorframe inches from my head. I pull Naomi back inside.
"Come on!" I shout, leading her through the kitchen, past the flames still licking at the walls. We burst through the back door into an alley between buildings.
More explosions rock the town as fuel tanks catch fire. The chaos buys us precious seconds. I scan our surroundings, mapping escape routes. The smoke is thickening, stinging my eyes, but through it I spot one of the abandoned houses I'd explored yesterday.
"This way," I say, pulling Naomi close to my side as we sprint across open ground. We stay low, using vehicles anddebris for cover. Another shot rings out, but the shooter's aim is compromised by the smoke.
We reach the house, and I kick in the door. Inside, I head straight for the garage, Naomi right behind me.
"What are you looking for?" she asks, breathless.
"This." I shove aside a heavy storage cabinet, revealing the tunnel entrance I'd discovered yesterday. A dark hole leads straight down, with metal rungs embedded in the concrete wall.
Naomi peers down into the darkness. "Where does it lead?"
"Mexico. I think." I check behind us. No immediate pursuit, but shouts are getting closer. The cartel’s entire army could be waiting for us on the other side, but it's better than staying here.
She doesn’t hesitate and moves toward the ladder. I help her onto it, then follow her down, pulling the cabinet partially back over the entrance to buy us time.
My eyes adjust and I see the narrow and damp tunnel is lit by sparse emergency bulbs casting sickly yellow light every twenty feet or so. The air is thick with the smell of earth and mold. We move as quickly as we can, the sounds of chaos above fading behind us.
I grip her hand tightly as I lead her down the tunnel. I don’t know what’s waiting for us on the other end. But whatever it is, I’ll protect her from it.
Whatever happens, I’m never letting her out of my sight again.
Twenty-Two
The tunnel stretches before us like a throat swallowing us whole. The air is damp and cool against my skin, carrying the smell of earth and something metallic.
I grip Naomi's hand tightly, her fingers interlaced with mine. I've never held on to anything so desperately in my life. My thumb traces small circles on her skin, a silent reassurance that I'm here, that I won't let go.
We don't speak. There's no need. Our footsteps and breathing create a rhythm that fills the narrow space. I strain my ears for sounds of pursuit, but there's nothing but our own breathing and footfalls.
After what feels like forever but is probably only twenty minutes, I spot a change in the quality of light ahead. Not the sickly yellow of the tunnel bulbs, but something warmer and more natural. Sunlight.
