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Especially if Cruz feels the same way.

“Come on, let’s hurry.” I lead him to the steps and back down. The shooting’s slowed now. I find Nico in the front hall kneeling against the wall. Another of the soldiers is dead, lying sprawled a few feet away.

“Good timing, bro,” Nico says sounding genuinely happy. “We’re getting slaughtered.”

“What’s going on?”

“Got us pinned, but no worries.” He glances at Cruz. “You ever throw a grenade, kid?”

“What?!” Cruz looks startled. “Are you joking?”

“Fuck no.” Nico opens his jacket and takes out a long canister with a pull tab on top. “Cool, huh?”

“What the fuck,” Cruz says, eyes going wide.

“Relax, it’s a flashbang. Lots of light and sound. When I say, close your eyes. Nico, you ready?”

But my brother already pulled the pin. “Fire in the hole, bitch!” He tosses it down the hallway.

“Shit! Now!”

I barely turn away, squeezing my eyes shut and covering my ears. The sound is physical, like getting punched in the heart, and a high ringing fills my head. Even covered, it’s still painful. The light is so bright it blasts through my eyelids, obliterating everything, and the smell is like burned gunpowder. I take a moment to gather myself and yank on Cruz’s wrist.

“Run!” I yell and barely hear myself. Nico’s already kicking open the front door with a whoop. The remaining two soldiers cover us, laying down fire as I bundle Cruz through, who looks stunned and only half with us.

We sprint across the front yard. Bullets ping against the pavement and spit into the dirt. The last soldier now falls, screaming as he’s shredded from behind. We reach the truck and I manage to throw Cruz into the back. Nico leaps into the driver’s side and the engine roars to life. He’s laughing wildly as the truck fishtails, rights itself, and barrels away down the street, the last guard just making it to the second vehicle and following at a more restrained and reasonable pace.

“That was fantastic!” Nico shouts. “Fuck, I loved that! Can we go back, Bass? I’ll round up more guys⁠—”

“Don’t be a dick,” I say through gritted teeth, already wrapping my arm in bandages from the first aid kit in the glove box.

“Damn, what happened?”

“I got shot.”

“That sucks.”

I grunt and ignore him. The truck drives erratically for a few more minutes, but when it’s clear we’re not being followed, Nico slows to a more law-abiding speed.

Cruz finally speaks up.

“Is he always like that?” he asks me in a stage whisper, sounding awed.

I glance at my brother, who only shrugs.

“Pretty much.”

Once the arm is bandaged and the bleeding is under control, I pull out my phone, but there’s still no message. That doesn’t mean the plan went wrong, but it’s not a great sign, either.

“Nico, you know where you’re going?”

“Yeah, bro. I’m good.”

“Get Cruz back to the ranch. Pull over, I’m going to take the other truck.”

He looks concerned for the first time. “You’re not in any shape⁠—”

“Marisol’s still out there,” I say. “I’m going to find her.”