He kept watching the tree line, the creek, the road. Logic ran quick in his head even with the panic punching at his ribs. Dexter wasn’t just hunting Melissa. He wanted Alena and him dead. That fact, ugly as it was, gave Cal an idea.
Cal pushed himself up to a crouch, heart slamming so hard he felt it in his throat. He could see Alena’s silhouette across the road in front of the cabin. For a second panic clawed at him, raw and immediate, but he shoved it down. He would draw fire if he had to.
He leaned out enough to make himself visible, raised his voice, and shouted, “Dexter!” The name tore out of him rough and loud. He let the sound hang in the trees, a deliberate dare.
Maybe it was the right move. Maybe it was the wrong one. He had no idea if the man across the road was Dexter or just one of his hired guns. Keller had paid muscle before and they could be anywhere. He swallowed, grit in his mouth, and called again, louder this time.
“Remember the warehouse, Dexter?” Cal taunted. “You never did get me. You tried but you failed.”
He expected an answer. He expected silence. What came was the rat-a-tat of gunfire, louder and angrier, but the tempo shifted. The shots slowed, lost some of their rhythm, as if the shooter was hesitating, deciding whether to take the bait. They didn’t stop.
Melissa’s words cut through the air like a knife. “He’ll kill Alena if he gets the chance.”
Before Cal could snap back, before he could stop her, she bolted upright. “Melissa, no!”
But she was already screaming at the top of her lungs, breaking cover, darting into the open. Cal’s gut clenched. He lunged forward, cursing, but she was too far gone. The shooter’s attention snapped to her instantly, and the staccato blast of gunfire split the night.
The first shot caught her midstride, spinning her off balance. She crumpled, tumbling down the slope of a small hill. Cal’s heart jammed into his throat as she rolled, finally landing hard against the rocky bank of the creek.
She was alive. He saw her move, heard a broken sound tear out of her, but it wouldn’t last. Not with blood soaking her shirt and another round waiting to finish her off. Cal knew it. If he didn’t act fast, Melissa’s time was running out.
Melissa’s voice shook, raw with fury and fear. “He’ll kill all of us.”
Then another voice cut through the night. “Melissa.”
Cal froze, every muscle snapping tight. That voice. Taunting, smug. Dexter.
The bastard was alive.
“You did this,” Dexter called, his words sharp and vicious. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have rotted in that hellhole. You cost me everything.”
Melissa, bloodied and struggling, lifted her head. She was in pain, but her defiance burned hot. “Fuck you,” she shouted, her voice breaking. “You’re nothing but a pathetic, weak excuse for a man. Rotting in prison is too good for you.”
The woods went still for a breath. Then Dexter roared back, his anger rattling through the trees. “You think you’re safe? You think you’ll live through tonight?”
Before Cal could move, Arneson’s voice tore into the chaos. “Dexter! Enough! Surrender now, before this goes any further.”
Cal gritted his teeth, pulse hammering. He knew Dexter wouldn’t surrender. This was the start of something worse.
Then, Cal spotted her in the shadows. Alena was across the road, close to the trees, her gun steady as she moved toward the cabin. She was heading straight for him. Straight for Dexter.
There was more movement. A flash of that familiar figure slipping out from cover, shifting toward her.
Dexter.
Cal’s gut twisted. He didn’t hesitate. He shoved to his feet, raised his weapon, and sighted down on the bastard. His finger squeezed the trigger at the same instant he heard the crack of Alena’s gun. Raines’s shot followed a heartbeat later.
The blasts echoed together, a deafening chorus in the night.
Dexter staggered. His mouth opened in what looked like a sneer, but no words came out. Blood sprayed across his chest as he dropped, hitting the dirt with a final, heavy thud.
Dexter was dead.
Chapter Nineteen
The sky was streaked with soft pink and gold as the sun pushed over the horizon. Alena leaned back against the seat, her body heavy with exhaustion, but her mind alive with the quiet relief humming between her and Cal.
Dexter was dead. Truly dead this time. He couldn’t come after David. He couldn’t come after them.
