He pulls us into his chest like he’s trying to shield us from the universe itself.
Behind him, Wolf is on the radio.
“This was a grab. Confirmed. They came for the baby.”
Saint closes his eyes.
Just for a second.
Then he opens them.
And whatever was holding him back before…
Is gone.
90
Saint
Idon’t remember pulling the trigger.
I remember stepping in front of Laney and Emmy.
Everything else is instinct.
Noise. Impact. Motion.
The hallway is a kill box. I built it that way months ago and still hate that I was right.
By the time it’s over, three men are on the floor, and one is bleeding into my tiles.
Wolf is calling it in.
Havoc is securing Laney and Emmy.
I’m standing there with my hands still shaking, and my vision tunneled, and one thought burning so bright it hurts:
They touched my family.
I saw something out of the side of my eye. And follow the last one into the back stairwell.
He doesn’t get far.
I take him apart piece by piece, not fast. Not clean.
He’s crying by the time he hits the bottom step.
“Who sent you?” I ask.
“I don’t know names,” he sobs. “Just the job.”
I hit him again.
“Who paid you?”
“Rourke— Rourke Hale!”
That name lands like a match in gasoline.
