Chapter Thirteen
The Line That Ends Things
Savage
I stare at the carnage around me.They came in the early morning hours when we were vulnerable.They came for Raven.But those that made it out left with a clear message.
She is one of us, safe and secure.
There’s a moment after violence where everything sharpens.Not adrenaline.Not rage.Clarity.I feel it settle in my bones as the compound locks down after the breach.Radios hum low.Engines idle.Men move without speaking because we’ve passed the point where words add anything.
There’s no negotiation after this.No leverage left to test.When someone reaches into your house and aims for the center, you don’t posture.You don’t warn.You remove the fucking hand.
I stand in the war room, palms flat against the table, staring at the map Fury pulled up.Red pins mark known cartel nodes.Yellow for intermediaries.Blue for subcontractors.
Tonight, yellow will turn black.
Saint stands to my right, quiet, eyes sharp.Steel to my left, hands loose at his sides in a way that means he’s already made peace with what’s coming.Fury paces behind us, a predator forced to wait.
Raven sits at the far end of the table.
Not hidden.Not central.Present.
“Confirm the targets,” I say.
Crimson taps the screen.“Three locations.Fremont warehouse.South Strip chop shop.Eastside drop apartment.”
“Which on is the primary?”Steel asks.
“The warehouse,” Crimson replies.“it’s basically their Command node.A sort of logistics hub.The two men who breached the compound came from there.”
Saint glances at Raven, then back to me.“That’s the hand.”
“Yes,” I agree.“We cut it off.”
Raven doesn’t speak.She doesn’t need to.She’s already given me the truth that mattered—no more waiting.
“Are we taking hostages?”Fury asks.
I meet his gaze.“No.Kill everyone.”
No cheers.No smiles.Just nods.
