Her boots were planted, her sidearm snug beneath her jacket, and every instinct sharpened to a blade’s edge. The others were already in place—hidden in the thicket, eyes on her, fingers near triggers. If this went sideways, it would be over fast. One flare and the ambush would snap tight.
But first… she had to look him in the eye.
Gunner.
The bastard who’d destroyed lives like it was a job. Who’d handed out kill orders like ration cards. Who’d turned loyalty into leverage and left a trail of bodies in the wake of Black Ledger’s rise.
And he used to be one of them.
The river curved left. She cut the throttle and let the boat drift into the clearing where they’d agreed to meet.
Two boats were already there—tied off in the reeds, their hulls casting long shadows in the moonlight.
He was standing on the bank.
Tall. Still. Calm in the way predators always were before they pounced.
Gunner hadn’t aged much. A few new lines at the corners of his eyes, maybe. A little more gray in his beard. But the arrogance? That was still worn like a crown.
Savvy stepped off the boat and onto the muddy bank without hesitation.
“Nice of you to come,” he said, his voice like gravel smoothed by charm. “I wasn’t sure you’d show.”
“Would’ve been rude not to. You did put a price on my head.”
He smirked. “A little drama never hurt anyone.”
“You sure about that?” She kept her posture loose, her hands visible and every move deliberate. “Locke and Mendoza are gone. You won’t be hearing from them.”
“I assumed as much. They were expendable.”
“Then you’re an idiot.” Her tone was flat, final. “They will be taken into custody. Locke’s loyal, I give him that. But Mendoza?” She shook her head. “He’s talking and you don’t stand a chance.”
“I’m not worried,” Gunner said. “You don’t know my network. You haven’t a clue as to what I’ve been able to set up or how high it goes.”
“I know more than you’ve ever given me credit for.” She inched a little closer. “I know exactly who you are, Morgan Baxter.”
Gunner’s eyes narrowed into tiny little slits. His jaw flexed. His nose flared. And then suddenly, he relaxed, as if the knowledge of his identity meant nothing. He shrugged. “And my previous name matters, why?”
“Because it won’t take much to prove you killed your foster parents. Murdered Patch’s parents and sister.” She waved her hand dismissively. “And that’s just the beginning of your sins. Mendoza will be given immunity for rolling over on your sorry ass. They’ll offer some kind of deal to Locke, if he wants to start talking.” She shrugged. “But silence has its own language. You’re finished. I’ve got you by the balls no matter how you look at it, and what a shame too. I didn’t want to believe it. That the boy who pulled a baby out of a burning house would grow into a monster.”
Something flickered in his eyes. Brief. Distant. Then it was gone. “That’s your mistake. It’s everyone’s mistake. You think there’s a hero buried in me. But thanks to people like you—people who believe there’s good in most—I’ve been able to rise to the position I’m in, and while you think you can stop me, you can’t.”
“Don’t you ever wonder what life would have been like if you had a different set of foster parents?” she asked. “Because I wonder if the system bent you into something else.” She cocked a brow. “I read all your psych evals. All your commanding officer reports before you joined the 73. There was one comment everyone made, and that was even though you were rough around the edges and were sometimes your own worst nightmare and weren’t leadership material, you could be an asset if only you could shake the anger issues.”
He stepped closer. Not too close—just enough to test the line between them. “You don’t know shit about my life.”
“Oh, I’ve pulled together a few things and none of it is pretty,” she said.
“Yeah, like what?”
“I know you loathe Patch so much you wanted him to suffer.”
Gunner smiled. “I won’t deny that.”
“So, you’ll admit to killing his parents? His sister?”
“I didn’t do those things.” Gunner laughed. “At least not personally, but money talks.”
