“Yes, one of their leaders. He was using the airport as a shield, but I tracked him down and had a shot lined up…” My eyes flick, unwillingly, to Kate. “And then the rooftop door opened.”
Kate goes very still as she starts putting two and two together.
Beck swears under his breath. “You’re telling me—“
“She walked into my line of fire, and the mission failed. So the contract terms changed to Somalia. Same target, differentlocation. I used the peace talks in Mogadishu and went in undercover as a photographer.”
Kate’s fingers tighten around Julian, eyes widening. “So you…” she whispers, voice thin.
“I killed Barre,” I affirm.
The confirmation lands like a stone dropped into deep water. Kate closes her eyes for a moment, devastation contained behind her teeth. No hysteria, just the quiet grief of having her suspicions made real.
“So, what we just witnessed on your phone?” Zane asks, already aware.
“His son, Hassan Yusuf Barre. He’s been killing everyone tied to that operation. State Department, FBI…” I pause to look at Kate. “Journalists… Anyone present when I took him out is on a kill list. I don’t know how he managed to track me down, but he sent eight men first, and when they failed, he decided to finish the mission himself.”
Zane leans forward, hands flat on the table. “So what now?”
Before I can answer, my phone vibrates again, this time with a call. I tilt the phone to show Kate the caller ID.
Her head snaps up. “Addison?”
I nod and answer immediately. “Sinclair.”
Her voice comes tight, controlled panic under stubbornness. “Ryder. I just landed at JFK, but something’s wrong.”
Kate’s face crumples. “Addy…”
I wrap my arm around her shoulders to offer comfort. “Talk to me. What’s going on?” I demand.
“I think someone followed me off the plane,” Addison continues. “Or I’m losing my mind, but I don’t think I am.”
Fuck! They’ve found Addison as well. Things are getting too serious too fast.
“You’re not,” I assure her, calm as stone. “Listen carefully. Get on the next flight to Texas.”
She hesitates before replying. “Ryder… if I’m being followed—“
“Let them follow you. It’s about time we put an end to this,” I reply.
Addison’s voice drops. “I don’t want to bring war to you guys.”
I look at my brothers, my dad, and the family that always has my back. My brothers’ expressions sharpen, understanding immediately.
I let a small, lethal smile cut through the dread. “It’s okay. We’ll be ready.”
And with those words, the truth settles fully into the room: The war is no longer out there.
It’s coming home to Iron Stallion.
27
KATHERINE
I feel like I’m about to combust. I’ve been a restless mess all day, and it’s only getting worse. I’ve been pacing for the last ten minutes with Julian on my hip, though pacing is a generous word when my body feels too full of nerves to move naturally. I keep drifting toward the windows, then away again, as if looking outside too hard might summon something I’m not ready to see. Or not see.
My son is warm in my arms, his cheek pressed against my collarbone as he babbles softly, entirely unaware of how fragile the air feels around us. His fingers curl into my shirt, anchoring himself the way babies do, like the world has never given him a reason not to trust it, and I envy him for it.
