“Shut up and walk!” I dragged her with me, keeping a tight grip on her, and rushed to the door. Then, once we were outside, I derailed suddenly and pushed her against the wall to the side—another small blind spot. I pressed my body to hers and leaned down. She screamed. “If you don’t shut up, I’ll slit your throat!” I ground out loud, then slipped the tactical mask up slightly so she could see my face. Even in the dark, she would realise it was me.
She gasped, and I put my hand on her mouth. “Shhh,” I whispered. “Play along, princess.”
At her almost imperceptible nod, I pushed her ahead. “There. Be quiet, you privileged piece of shit, or I’ll beat you to death.” I leaned down then, bringing my lips to her ears. “I got you, princess.”
She took a ragged breath on the wings of a sob. I could practically hear her heart sewing itself back together.
"They're coming," she whispered.
“Then we better not let them find us.” Then louder, “Move!” I pushed her forward.
"This is insane!" Aoife shouted, her eyes wide. "How much is she paying you? It'll never work." Oh, she could put up an act.
"You’re giving me a fucking headache," I replied, my voice coming out muffled behind the tactical mask. I adjusted the night-vision goggles that came with it, marvelling at how clearly I could suddenly see in the darkness. Stopping for a moment, I pulled a cable tie out of one of my pockets and bound her wrists loosely behind her—loose enough that she could slip free if needed. The night air was cool against my skin as I shouldered the hunter's tactical vest and discreetly checked the other pockets, something I hadn’t had time to do before. A combat knife. A flashlight. And a sleek digital radio headset with an earpiece and mic.
I positioned it over my ear, hearing the occasional crackle of communication between the other mercenaries. They were coordinating their search, still unaware that a number of their own were down.
"Beatrice will figure it out soon," Aoife whispered, keeping up with me. "The others will get to the cottage at some point and?—”
"We have a window," I countered. “A short one.” I had to find a phone and call Coyne at least—get some help as soon as we’d put some distance from the cottage and whatever other bastards were out there.
I tugged on Aoife’s arm, adopting the confident stride of a predator rather than the cautious movements of prey. Playing the part. We moved through the grounds, my heart hammering against my ribs with each step. Every shadow seemed to move suspiciously, every rustle in the bushes a potential threat.
The radio crackled to life suddenly. "Sector four, clear," came a gruff voice. "Nothing in sector two," replied another. "Keep looking," came a third voice, sharper, more authoritative. "They can't have gone far."
We kept walking, and I could sense her tension. "Stay calm," I whispered. "We're almost at the eastern perimeter."
That's when I spotted him—a man emerging from a thicket ahead, his mask catching the moonlight. My stomach dropped, but I kept walking purposefully without breaking my stride. Aoife had also seen him.
“Calm,” I repeated.
The son of a bitch raised a hand in acknowledgment, then paused, head tilting as he studied us.
"What have we got here?" he called, his voice carrying in the quiet night. He reached to his face and pulled up his mask.
I deepened my voice slightly. "One prisoner is down and she tried to escape. I caught her," I explained.
“Is he dead?”
I wondered what I should say. If I responded in the negative, it would help to scatter the men and split their attention so I could handle the situation better.
“Not sure,” I replied curtly. “I did not check.”
“Were you?—”
“Outside,” I cut in, hoping they wouldn’t give this detail to Beatrice, who would surely smell a rat.
The man’s boots crunched on twigs and leaves. He reached up and touched his radio headset. "All units, this is Mason. I've got one from the team here with the female target. Male target may be loose. Converge on sector three for sweep."
Sweat beaded on my forehead beneath the mask. Mason stepped closer, studying Aoife, who kept her head lowered.
"What's your name?" Mason asked suddenly, turning his attention back to me. "I know the boss lady hired many of us and split us in groups. Don't think we've met directly."
My mind raced. Was there a wrong answer to this question?
"Yeah. I'm Kev," I replied, remembering the common, unassuming name of a kid at my old school. I kept my tone casual. "From the south team. Tracked her through the woods."
Mason nodded slowly. "Kev. Right. South team with Donovan?"
