“Then wake her,” he says. “Move her to cover.”
My eyes cut back toward the cracked bedroom door.
“Copy.”
His voice drops a fraction, enough to tell me he hears what I’m not saying.
“She was never the bait, Sin.”
I say nothing.
Because I know that.
The Saints do not risk women under their protection. Not for strategy. Not for leverage. Not for anything.
Havoc continues. “They were hunting. We picked the ground. When this is over, he doesn’t get to own her fear.”
My teeth grind.
Ruby.
Havoc’s tone doesn’t change. “You’re not alone out there. They are.”
The anger in my chest cools into something harder. Cleaner.
Luke and his men aren’t walking toward an open cabin. They’re walking into a Saints’ net.
“Show restraint,” Havoc says. “Luke’s worth more breathing than dead. We need names, routes, and the next link. We need Salazar.”
“Understood.”
I cut the call and move fast.
Back into the bedroom.
Ruby is still asleep, face soft in the dark, one hand tucked under her cheek. The sight of her calm makes my chest twist. Like I’m about to be the one who steals it.
I sit on the edge of the bed and touch her shoulder gently.
“Ruby.”
Her eyes snap open instantly.
Fear is immediate. Sharp. She jerks upright like she expects hands on her, like she expects the room to turn into the stage again.
“Hey,” I say, low and steady. “It’s me.”
Her breathing is too fast. Her eyes are too wide.
“Sin,” she whispers, voice shaking.
“I need you to listen,” I say. “We have movement.”
Her face drains of color.
“Luke,” she breathes.
I don’t confirm it. I don’t deny it.
