Dori fell in behind us without a word, and we reached the back of the yard quickly, Ro pausing just before the sliding door. He held up a hand, and I froze automatically.
After a few seconds of dead silence, Ro tested the door, which slid open with barely a sound.
I had to bite back a laugh. “He really does want to be murdered,” I whispered.
Ro shot me a disapproving look over his shoulder.
We slipped inside one by one, the door sliding shut behind us.
The house was dark, lit only by the faint glow of something deeper inside—probably a TV left on or a hallway light.
Ro moved first, silent and precise. I stayed close to his side, matching his pace. Dori hung back just enough to cover us.
The kitchen and living room were devoid of life, so Ro turned and led us into a hallway.
I felt my pulse quicken, not from fear but from anticipation.
Suddenly, a door at the end of the hall cracked open, spilling light out into the darkness, and a man stepped out.
Shit.
Not our target.
From the side, he looked similar, but something was off.
When the guy inevitably looked to the left and saw us, his eyes got big, and he reached for his side.
Ro closed the distance in a blink, grabbing the man’s wrist and driving him back into the wall.
“Who the fuck are you?!” the guy shouted, his voice raspy from either sleep or cigarettes. “Jackson!”
“Shut up,” Ro snapped under his breath, feeling around the man’s waist until he found what the guy had been reaching for. “Dori, gun.”
Dorian surged forward without hesitation and pulled the weapon from the guy’s waistband while Ro continued to restrain him.
“Jackson, wake up!” the man yelled as he struggled in Ro’s hold.
Ro’s hand tightened in the man’s shirt, slamming him harder against the wall, the impact knocking the air from his lungs.
“Shut. Up,” he hissed, low and sharp.
But the guy didn’t stop.
“Jackson!” he shouted again, louder this time, panic cracking through his voice. “There’s—”
Dorian moved.
He stepped in close, one hand catching the man’s jaw, fingers digging in to force his head back. “Sorry,” Dori muttered before driving a knife up under the man’s ribs.
A choked sound tore from the guy’s throat, his body jerking violently. His hands clawed at Dorian’s arm, at Ro’s shirt, at anything he could reach.
The man tried to scream again, but Dorian didn’t give him the chance.
He pulled the knife free and drove it in again, higher this time, angling for something vital. The second hit stole whatever fight the guy had left. His body sagged, breath stuttering out in a broken wheeze.
“Fuck,” Ro muttered under his breath. “Reminder that there are other ways of shutting someone up besides killing them.” He slowly lowered the body to the floor, blood now splattered all over the front of him. “I think that was his brother.”
“Well,” I said quietly, glancing down at the blood spreading across the guy’s shirt. “I see the resemblance from the photo.”
