Havoc exhaled slowly. “I know.”
That was the part that worried me.
I trusted her instincts. Trusted her strength. Trusted her judgment.
But men like Thomas didn’t come back to negotiate.
They came back to punish.
“We change the pattern,” Havoc continued. “No routines. No predictable exits. And we assume eyes, even when we don’t see them.”
I nodded. “They’re not here to hit us yet.”
“No,” he agreed. “This was a knock.”
A test.
A message.
I know where you are.
I glanced back at the cabin. Light glowed faintly through the curtains in the bedroom window.
Rylie.
I’d promised her another quiet night.
Looks like that was all we were going to get.
“We hold,” I said. “For now. Let them think we didn’t notice.”
Havoc’s mouth curved slightly. “That’ll make them sloppy.”
“That’s the idea.”
We stood there in silence for a moment longer, two sentinels watching a forest that had stopped pretending it was empty.
Somewhere out there, someone was reporting back.
And soon—
Very soon—
Thomas would decide how he wanted to collect.
I’m sure the judge was bought off to allow him bail.
41
Thomas
Failure was a word used by men who didn’t plan far enough ahead.
Thomas preferred the wordadjustment.
He stood at the window of the villa overlooking the lights of the city below, a glass of untouched whiskey in his hand. Dawn was breaking somewhere far north—over trees and mountains and places his enemies believed made them unreachable.
They were wrong.
