The six men notice Bush when he steps confidently forward. There is no hesitation or fear in his stance.
Recognition slams into the Bushrangers all at once. Their faces harden in anger.
I know the history. Bush testified. Bush helped put them away.
One of the Australians lunges a half-step, snarling something I can’t hear but don’t need to. Another points directly at him. Threats. Promises.
Tony squeezes my fingers tighter.
Chrome unfolds his arms and barks at the Bushrangers.
The energy changes again—less posturing, more lethal.
Vandal’s expression turns ugly. His jaw moves in slow, deliberate words. He gestures toward the city around us, then toward the ground, like he’s claiming territory.
Chrome doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.
Even from here, I can see the moment he delivers his message.
Leave.
Go back to Australia.
You won’t like the outcome if you stay.
Vandal laughs—but it’s hollow now. He fires back, clearly refusing. They’re here for a reason. They’re not leaving without whatever they came for.
My stomach drops.
Chrome steps closer. Close enough that they’re nearly chest to chest.
He points subtly around them.
Outnumbered.
Outgunned.
If you stay, you die.
The words don’t need sound. The meaning is written in every rigid spine and clenched fist.
For a second, I think it’s going to explode. Twelve against six. Guns. Knives. Blood in the street.
Then Vandal jerks his chin.
The Bushrangers shove forward, forcing their way through the Demon Dawgs’ circle. There’s shoulder-checking—hard contact. But no one throws the first punch.
When they reach their bikes, Vandal glares at Bush one last time before the engines roar to life.
Then Vandal shifts his attention to the SUV, toward me.
Then they peel out and disappear down the street.
Only when the sound fades do I realize I’ve stopped breathing.
CHAPTER 15: BUSH
“I’m coming, too,” I tell Chrome. “It’s time to pull the focus off of Zara.”
