Outside, Gunner laughed again. “C’mon, brother,” he called. “You know you wanna finish this.”
Luca appeared beside them instantly. “Don’t,” he warned.
Rocco’s jaw flexed violently. “He’s baiting me.”
“No shit,” Tony muttered from the living room.
Jonesy moved closer slowly, the older man’s face hard in the dim moonlight. “You walk out there angry,” he said quietly, “and that boy already won.” Rocco looked wrecked. He looked pulled apart from the inside, because Gunner wasn’t just threatening them, he was dragging Rocco backward into every dark place he’d fought to crawl out of. And Luna suddenly realized something horrifying—Gunner didn’t just want revenge, he wanted Rocco broken again.
A loud metallic clang echoed outside suddenly, and then a car engine roared to life somewhere deeper in the woods. Everybody froze. “What the hell?” Tony muttered. Headlights flashed briefly through the trees before disappearing again, and silence followed—real silence this time. There were no more footsteps, no taunting voice, nothing.
Luca moved carefully toward the side window. “He’s leaving.” Rocco didn’t relax, not even slightly, because Luna could see it now. Gunner wasn’t done playing with him—not even close.
Rocco’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and every person in the cabin went still. Slowly, carefully, he pulled it out and looked at the screen. Luna’s stomach dropped instantly as Rocco opened the message and silently read it to himself. His face went completely blank.
“What?” she whispered. He turned the screen toward her. It was a photo, taken through the cabin window just minutes ago, of Rocco holding Luna against him on the floor, and underneath it was one sentence.
Now I know where to aim.
ROCCO
Rocco had killed men before, and that was the first thought that entered his head when he looked at the photo on his phone. Not panic, fear—just violence. Cold, immediate violence, because the picture changed everything. Before, Gunner had been targeting him, but now, Luna was part of it, and the second Gunner threatened her, something inside Rocco snapped clean in half.
“Rocco.” Luna’s voice sounded distant, muted beneath the roaring in his ears.
Now I know where to aim. The message replayed over and over inside his skull while every survival instinct he had screamed the same thing—to neutralize the threat immediately. He didn’t even realize he was moving until Tony stepped directly into his path.
“No,” Tony growled.
Rocco’s jaw clenched violently. “Move,” he ordered.
Tony held his ground. “Absolutely fucking not.” Outside, the SUV engine faded deeper into the woods, getting farther away, and every second it disappeared made Rocco crazier, because Gunner was out there—alive and watching them. Rocco shoved a hand through his hair roughly and turned away before he put his fist through something—or someone.
“You saw the message,” he snapped.
“Yeah,” Tony shot back. “And that’s exactly why you can’t go after him right now.”
Luca nodded grimly from the side window. “You’re too emotional right now.”
Rocco laughed harshly. “No shit.”
Jonesy stepped forward slowly, his older face hard in the dim cabin light. “What happens if you catch him tonight?”
Rocco looked at him instantly. The answer sat ugly and immediate in his chest. “I end this.” Nobody spoke, because they all believed him. Luna moved toward him carefully after that silence stretched too long, and Christ, even now, she wasn’t backing away from him. Most people would. Most people would see the violence sitting just under his skin right now and run, but not Luna.
She touched his arm gently. “You need to breathe,” she reminded. Rocco looked down at her and nearly lost his damn mind, because she still trusted him. Even now, after seeing exactly what he became when pushed too far, she still trusted him.
“He threatened you,” he said roughly.
“I know,” she whispered.
“You’re not taking this seriously enough,” he insisted.
That earned him a look. “Excuse me?” she snapped. “I’m standing in a dark cabin in the woods while someone shoots at us. I’m taking it very seriously.” Normally, her attitude would’ve almost made him smile, but not right now. Right now, all he could think about was that photo—the angle that it was taken at and the distance. He thought about how easily Gunner could’ve pulled the trigger instead.
Rocco stepped away from everyone abruptly and braced both hands against the kitchen counter, trying to force air into his lungs. Control it. Control it. Usually, telling himself that worked, but this time, every thought in his head circled back to the same thing—Luna was in danger because of him.
A memory slammed into him hard enough to make him dizzy, of Gunner laughing beside him overseas. If I ever lose my shit, brother, you better put me down. That’s what Gunner had told him after a few beers that night at one of the local bars. Rocco squeezed his eyes shut because maybe this was always inside Gunner. Maybe war just gave it room to grow.
