“Thank you,” he said, and meant it.
“Don’t thank me yet,” King replied.“This could light a fuse.”
“They already did,” Reaper said coldly.
He ended the call and kicked the stand down, pacing tight circles beside the bike.He flicked his gaze to the map again and again.The dot didn’t move.
The good?That meant she was still there.Minutes stretched into something unbearable.His thoughts turned violent, brutal images flashing unbidden.Cruz’s face.His hands on Elena.Fear tightening her eyes.
Reaper’s chest burned.He’d failed her.He’d promised himself he wouldn’t let this happen.He’d known the risk, had a feeling the cartel never truly let go.Now she was paying for it.
Engines roared down the street.Reaper turned as three bikes pulled up hard, gravel spraying.Brothers dismounted without a word.They looked armed and ready.Reaper nodded in silent satisfaction.
“Mount up,” Reaper said.“We’re taking her back.”
They didn’t question him, they simply rode.The town center fell away behind them, buildings thinning into skeletal houses and dead streets.Reaper rode like the devil himself was on his heels, weaving through potholes and cracked asphalt.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.King.He answered without slowing.
“I got hold of Morales,” King said.
Morales was the current head of the cartel.Reaper’s blood ran cold.“And?”Reaper prompted.
“He says Elena was taken off their list,” King continued.“Once they found out she was affiliated with us, they wanted no war.”
A sharp, bitter laugh tore out of Reaper.“Bullshit,” he muttered.
“There’s more,” King said.“Cruz is acting alone.He’s gone rogue.Morales claims he didn’t authorize this.”
Reaper’s jaw set hard enough to ache.“Convenient,” he muttered.
Yet, it made some sense.Cruz had always considered him his rival.Both of them joined the cartel at the same time but Reaper always got promoted first.During one mission which Reaper led, Cruz had gotten injured badly and he’d blamed Reaper for it.Cruz never did learn to let go of a grudge.
“Could be a trap,” King warned.
“I don’t care,” Reaper replied.His voice was flat now.Deadly.“She’s my priority.”
“I figured you’d say that,” King said quietly.“Good luck.”
The call ended.Reaper cut the engine a block away from the house.He lifted a fist.The crew fanned out, silent shadows slipping between derelict buildings.
The house loomed ahead.The windows were dark, the porch sagged.One car parked crooked out front.
Reaper locked his gaze on the front door.She was inside.He felt it like a hook buried under his ribs.He motioned two brothers to flank the back.One stayed with him.
Reaper drew his weapon, breath steady, mind cold.This was what he was built for.He kicked the door in.Wood splintered.The sound cracked like a gunshot.
“Cruz!”he roared.
Chaos erupted.A man lunged from the hallway.Reaper fired without hesitation.Another went down screaming.Muzzle flashes lit the room in harsh bursts.
“Reaper!”a voice shouted from upstairs.
Elena.His heart stuttered.
He took the stairs two at a time, blood roaring in his ears.At the top, Cruz stepped into view, gun pressed to Elena’s temple.She was pale, shaking, but unmistakably alive.Reaper froze.
“Easy,” Cruz said, breathing hard.“Take another step and she dies.”
