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I reach for my phone to call Knox, but they’ve noticed us and are gaining. It rings, but one of them, dressed in a tight khaki performance T-shirt, gets to me before I can set my feet. His fist is like a cinder block as it rams my ribs.

The phone flies from my hand as air leaves me in a rush.

I curl over, cough, but out of the corner of my eye, I see the change in his stance. Not wanting to take another blow like that, I force myself upright, grab his head, and introduce his face to my knee with a sickening crunch.

Not sure what shatters, his nose or cheekbone, but I don’t want to take any chances. So, while he howls, blood pouring between his fingers, I do it again.

This time, he falls to the ground.

I grab my phone and can hear Knox shout my name. “Della’s spot. At least ten men,” I manage to say, before two more men reach me.

The trail is narrow where we are. Water on one side, dense shrub on the other. It works in our favor because they can only come at us two at a time instead of all at once.

“Stay where it’s narrow,” I shout to Ridge as another man runs at me, his shoulder low. I manage to change my stance at the last minute to soften the blow, but there is still contact with my ribs. “Don’t let…them surround…us.”

Forcing myself to shake off the impact, I grab him and shove with such a force that he stumbles back a couple of steps before tripping and falling over the man whose nose I just destroyed.

Ridge has two of them by the collars and smacks their skulls together like he’s cracking eggs, and then, a third comes at him low and takes him to the ground. I watch him go down, watch a boot raise, and there’s a second where the road in front of me is clear, where I could run to Ridge and —

Bennett. He’s here. Standing where the swamp meets the dirt, hands in his pockets like he’s at the theater, watching his men work. And I wonder if I could get to him. Get through his men. It’s right there. Everything I want, one rush of speed and rage away.

Capture him. Torture him. Get the answers we need.

But a cry from Ridge distracts me, and when I glance his way, a man with thick steel-capped boots kicks him hard in the ribs.

Bennett or my best friend. That’s my choice.

And nobody gets left behind. Not him, not me, not ever. That’s the whole point of a tail gunner.

After that, I’m not sure what happens. Out-of-body unscripted violence.

I throw myself at the man about to stamp his boot down on Ridge’s face. It catches him off guard as he flies into the water. I pull out my knife and take out the second. But they’re replaced with two more, Bennett yelling orders from his place of safety.

The fact he’s here, witnessing this, while remaining unharmed, causes every part of me to vibrate with untapped rage.

Fucking coward.

Ridge uses the distraction to painfully roll to his knees and use a nearby stump to stand.

“To the end?” Ridge asks.

“Bit dramatic,” I reply, throwing my fist at the next man to reach me.

I hear Ridge grunt in pain as he defends himself with his knife. “Thought you liked…adventure…and big gestures.”

I huff at that. “Just don’t expect me to fuck you after.”

He laughs. It’s painful and sharp. But it’s laughter.

I don’t want to die today, but if I do, I’ll go with my best friend. And that’s not a terrible way to end things. But thoughts of Della and the life I wouldn’t get to have with her bring a renewed vow to not let it happen. I think about the conversation we had in front of the fire pit. I can’t let her down so soon.

Time blurs. Fatigue sets in. It’s easier for them to surround us as we get tired. They tag in, rest.

When Ridge and I are finally subdued, Bennett comes over and looks straight at me. “Pretty little scientist you’ve got yourself. Be a real shame if something happened to her.”

“You fucking touch her, and I’ll kill you.” The words come out with a snarl. “And if I’m dead, my club will kill you. There’s no way you win this.”

Bennett has the audacity to grin. “You want everyone you love to stay in one piece, you might want to⁠—”