Played by Cara Dee

Twelve

“Oh my God,” Willow mumbled. “Stand by. I’m trying to get a head count.”

They’d been hoping to see this. The arrival of victims. They hadn’t banked on it, figuring the trafficking ring could’ve housed the slaves in the compound for a longer period of time—as in, before Darius and the crew had installed their own surveillance—but yeah, they’d definitely hoped. And now it was happening. Finding out the number of innocent people brought to the compound would give them a better estimate of the resistance tonight.

The guys had reached the top of the ridge when the last guest on Willow’s list was crossed off, but two additional cars had shown up shortly after—two cars they weren’t tracking.

“Another vehicle inbound,” Ryan murmured, peering through his binoculars. “What’re we at so far? Surveillance registered four before we got here, right?”

“Yes,” Darius replied. Four men had shown up earlier today, and two had left. Having tracked the activity for quite some time now, he wanted to be able to say they knew for sure. But it was still too soon to have figured out their schedule. People hadn’t shown up regularly. Sometimes here, sometimes there, arriving in numbers of anything between two and six. “Including the arrivals tonight, we believe we’re looking at thirty-nine—”

“Hold on,” Willow interrupted. “People are coming out from the compound.”

“Three more cars coming,” Ryan said under his breath. “Something’s up.”

Darius stiffened and strained his eyes to see in the dark, though the only thing he could count were headlights.

“We have confirmation that slaves have been held at the compound for longer than we’ve been here,” Willow said. “I’m counting four young women in tattered clothes and eleven others coming out from the brothel right now. Six women, wives of guests—they were brought here tonight. It’s as if there’s already been an auction.”

Fuck.

“Is that AJ…?” Willow muttered, seemingly to herself. “I didn’t see him arrive. He’s leaving with two briefcases. It has to be him—yes. I have facial recognition. I repeat, AJ Lange is leaving the premises.”

Darius and Dante exchanged a look of frustration and confusion. They couldn’t fucking let AJ slip through their fingers.

“We’re going to need trackers on the people leaving,” Alicia stated. “Is that even possible? We’ll lose them.”

Maybe trackers weren’t necessary. Willow had the identities of the people leaving. If they didn’t get to them tonight, it would be easy to pass on anonymous information to the authorities.

“A lot of activity now,” Ryan murmured distractedly. “Keep your focus on the number of people in the compound, Squeezy. Everyone who leaves can be tracked later, but we need to know how many are staying behind.”

“Several of the cars coming back are the ones we already have trackers on,” Alicia revealed. “Something is definitely going on.”

“Seven more suspected victims coming out with owners,” Willow added. “Okay, this is practically rush hour.”

They needed a plan for AJ. It was one thing to be forced to let a buyer or two go—as much as it would sting—but to let the son of the head of the organization escape was not gonna fucking happen.

“Alfred Lange and his wife have arrived,” Alicia said. “Along with two associates. Or maybe they’re guards—but I don’t know. I recognize one of them. I think he’s someone who works closely with Alfred.”

Dante shifted closer to Darius. “You think it’s possible they had a small event before the main one?”

Anything was possible at this point. Darius kinda wanted River’s take on what was happening, but they weren’t able to communicate at the moment. The Tenley brothers, Gray, and Niko heard every word, and they would continue to listen in until the battle was over. Only then would Willow connect them so they could speak too. It was an attempt to make sure that the line remained available to those who were currently active in the operation.

“Crowd is thinning out,” Willow said. “Correct me if I got the math wrong, Alicia, but right now, we have twelve Lange associates, sixteen guests or buyers, and a minimum of seventeen victims in the compound.”

“Same numbers I got,” Ally confirmed.

“I have plenty of footage of everyone who left,” Willow went on. “Footage and information. They won’t get far. But I’m still missing confirmation on a few of those who arrived in the first round, mainly a couple wives of the men on the guest list. They didn’t show their faces on the way in.”

It didn’t matter. What mattered were the new numbers. Twenty-eight hostiles in total, and possibly a couple more if they’d missed any, but not even half of them would be equipped for battle. Darius liked those odds. He liked them a great deal. And Willow was right—they’d be able to track the ones who’d left. They had names, addresses, and proof that they’d been here tonight. Hell, they could turn them right over to the Feds.

The FBI was good at solving those cases. It was the major organizations that were difficult to nail. Not to mention how expensive those investigations were.

“Are we good to go, then?” Darius asked.

“I think it’s safe to advance,” Ally replied, “but don’t enter yet. We want to make sure you won’t run into anyone.”

“I think AJ is on his way home,” Willow said pensively. “Either way, I’m keeping an eye on his movements.”

Ryan gestured for the guys to move forward and took the lead down the ridge with Elliott on his tail.

The trek down was longer than the one going up, but this one wasn’t as steep. Fewer obstacles in the way too.

Darius sidestepped a smaller boulder, glad that his eyes had adjusted fully to the darkness by now. The moon was no help, hiding behind clouds, which was actually a good thing. It meant they didn’t have to crawl along the ground to advance.

At the bottom of the ridge, they waited for further confirmation that they could continue, and Alicia gave them the green light. No more vehicles approaching as far as they could see—or track.

“Rescue unit in position, standing by,” Willow declared. “AJ has arrived at his house.”

In other words, Darius wasn’t calling Casey and Boone. Not anytime soon anyway. They were standing by as well, waiting to raid AJ’s house of valuables. And possibly to replant evidence.

The distance to the brothel shrank with each step they took, and soon, the damages to the structure were visible to the eye. One part of the house had already collapsed, the black roof sunken into the west side of the upstairs. Windows were shattered or missing completely. The wooden façade had been damaged by both termites and weather, revealing the concrete foundation in several places.

“Don’t freak out. I’m gonna land my drones near you,” Willow told them. “I don’t wanna waste the batteries.”

The low whirring sound appeared a few seconds later, followed by two faint blinking lights. The drones were considerably larger than the one she’d used to confirm their whereabouts on the island when they’d been stranded. These were black too, not pale blue. Longer blades, sturdier construction.

Willow landed them gracefully on the ground some ten feet away from the guys.

“AJ is on the move again,” Alicia said. “If he’s heading back to the compound, you have approximately twenty minutes. Either you wait, or you enter now and secure the premises before he gets there.”

Darius and the others stopped their approach and eyed one another. From the moment they blew up the door, everything would have to go down quickly. In their training, they’d allowed for exactly one minute to clear the lobby—if there was one. Then they’d quickly make their way through the place and take down targets as they went. So while twenty minutes didn’t sound like a lot, it would be enough. More than enough, even.

“I say we go for it,” Ry said quietly. “AJ won’t be a match for us on his own.”

Darius agreed, and it tightened his stomach. This was it. In twenty minutes, after several weeks of planning—and a year of agony for Gray—it would all be over.

“I see no reason to postpone it,” Dante said. “We’re moving forward.”

Elliott detached the scope from his helmet and pocketed it to ensure it didn’t get in the way of the gas mask later. Then the men kicked into gear and moved steadily toward the run-down building. Tariq produced the five-second fuses, Elliott brought out the duct tape, and Dante unwrapped the C-4 charges. They’d brought much more than they needed, not wanting to take any chances.

Ryan jogged up the stone steps to the house first, Darius following quickly, both with their weapons at the ready.

“It looks like AJ is returning,” Alicia said. “He’s on the same route so far.”

“I’m…hmm. I’ve got—and—” Willow’s voice mingled with white noise for a moment before she was back, and she said she was preparing to trace credit cards. Darius didn’t catch all of it, but it had to do with the people who’d already left the compound.

There was no front door.

Past the ghostly looking foyer, down a hall with floorboards creaking loudly, into one of the back rooms where a hole in the floor awaited them.

Ryan flicked on the flashlight at the end of his rifle and aimed it down the stairs. Once upon a time, maybe it’d been a dirt cellar. Or perhaps there’d been nothing there at all and the Langes had built it. Regardless, the space was tiny, and only Dante could go down there to attach the charges. The rest had to stay back and make room.

“All clear,” Darius said under his breath. “Gas masks on.”

While Dante jogged down the steps, the others adjusted their helmets to slip the straps of the gas masks over their heads.

This isn’t right, and you know it.

Darius clenched his jaw. It was a bad fucking time to let his doubts seep out. On the other hand, he almost always took his gut feeling into consideration at least. Why not now?

“Fuck,” Dante whispered. “Guys, the door’s unlocked.”

Darius immediately sought out Ryan, and the two turned grim. They were thinking the same thing, Darius was sure—all of them. If the attack is too easy, it’s an ambush. Because the guards wouldn’t be that fucking careless, would they?

This didn’t help shove aside the doubts. Instead, they increased.

“How can you be sure?” Elliott asked. “You haven’t turned the handle.”

Dante directed his flashlight to the millimeter-wide crack between the door and the reinforced framework. “I can see that the bolts aren’t secured.”

Darius suppressed a sigh and rubbed his neck. The good news was that they were out of sight and hearing range so long as the door was closed. The even better news was that they now had the element of surprise back in their corner. But only if this wasn’t, in fact, an ambush. In which case, they might be royally fucked.

“Clock’s ticking, boys,” Alicia said tightly. “Maybe it’s safer to wait until after AJ’s returned? He’s about seventeen minutes out.”

Darius couldn’t see how it would make any difference, so he looked around himself, making sure everyone was paying attention, then signaled for them to move forward anyway. His heart started hammering as they descended the steps and joined Dante at the door. It was going to be quick, as silent as possible, and with a slight change of plans.

Because he was fucking done with the alternative ways to take down their enemies.

“Fuck the riot control. We’re going in heavy,” he ordered, unfastening the chin strap of his helmet again. “Gas masks off.” And he couldn’t explain it. Too many little details had added up over time, and all combined, they would slow down their attack. Like the gas masks; they couldn’t see as well with them on.

“Guys—the plan,” Alicia protested. “We don’t wanna leave evidence behind.”

They were gonna fucking do that anyway! Frustration erupted within Darius, and he pushed communications out of his mind. This was about him and his unit. If he wanted to keep the men safe, they had to bring their best defense and offense.

Thankfully, the men were experienced and trusted Darius. Answers could wait. They removed the masks and put their helmets back on and adjusted the headphones. And most importantly, thoughts of using riot control and intoxicating gas flew out the window.

Dante gripped the door handle. “On the count of three. One, two—three.” He pulled the heavy door open, and Darius and Ryan got their first glimpse of the inside. Something’s wrong, something’s wrong. Lights flickered like static in the low ceiling, and the lobby was…abandoned. Not a fucking soul present. A tray with empty champagne glasses sat on a side table. Tariq ducked into an alcove and opened two bathroom doors. All clear. Ryan peered over the black-painted front desk. Everything was black. Black and gold. All clear. Darius veered right where a long corridor waited for them. Empty. More flickering lights. A closed door was at the end, some thirty feet away.

“This is an ambush,” Ryan stated, rifle aimed down the second hallway, straight ahead. “We’re not splitting up three ways to go different directions.”

No, two would have to do. Darius was on the same page and spoke without looking away from the door at the end of the corridor. “D and Tariq stay here—don’t let anyone pass—provide backup if we need it. Jones and Ry, you’re with me.”

“We haven’t heard Alicia or Squeezy for a while,” Elliott said.

Shit. He was right. Signal blocker? But they could still hear one another as clearly as before, over the same line they’d been on.

“Ally,” Dante beckoned.

“We don’t have time for this shit,” Darius snapped. “Let’s go. D, you’ll hear if we need assistance.”

Jesus Christ, never before had “No plan survives the first contact with the enemy” been truer.

On the way down the corridor, Darius holstered his Sig and grabbed the shotgun from his back. It was heavier than most and not the smoothest one to lug around, but it got the job done quickly if there was something in the way. Like doors.

“Eight plus one,” Ryan provided.

Darius nodded once, aimed at the lock on the door, and fired twice.

Two. Seven to go.

The sound exploded in the confined space, and the men hurried forward right away. Darius kicked the door off its hinges and went through, revealing a large room. Hostile in sight. All weapons aimed at the blonde standing in the middle of the floor with her back to the men.

“Turn around,” Darius demanded. He registered the surroundings quickly—three flat-screens on one wall, a bar table nearby, and then the other… The wall across from the screens wasn’t a wall at all. They were booths currently shielded by a curtain. But he could see a door in the corner. You had to go through all the booths to reach the one in the end.

The woman wore a formfitting red dress with matching heels, and she turned around slowly. At the same time, a door opened across the room, and several men appeared with guns.

Darius froze. The air in his lungs was punched out of him. Betrayal tore through, along with an ice-cold tremor of shock and disbelief. He didn’t wanna believe it. It couldn’t fucking be. Except…there was a small, quiet voice at the back of his head that put everything together quickly, and it became obvious.

“You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Ry fumed.

Alicia smiled widely. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long.”

Darius gnashed his teeth so hard he thought he was gonna crush his molars.

She removed her wig with a tinkering laugh and shook her head. “Boy, it hasn’t been easy—I’ll tell ya that.”

“…I’m still missing confirmation on a few of those who arrived in the first round, mainly a couple wives of the men on the guest list. They didn’t show their faces on the way in.”

That was how Alicia had gotten in. She must’ve left the house shortly after River and the others.

“It makes sense, though, doesn’t it?” she asked. Her heels clicked against the concrete floor as she went over to the bar table. There was a headset and…it had to be a laptop. And a remote. “River’s had his suspicions. And I think…so have you, Darius.”

Darius snapped his glare back to her.

He was still in disbelief.

“You haven’t been able to figure it out,” she went on. “You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but something hasn’t felt quite right.”

He swallowed against the dryness in his throat. “You kept pushing for the carbon monoxide and the riot control with calming effect.”

She held up a finger in correction. “I didn’t push. I merely suggested and advocated. And that part was so easy…because you’re sick of killing. You don’t want any more blood on your hands, and I offered an alternative.”

It had worked. She’d given them all a fucking headache. She’d made the operation more complicated, given the men more things to consider, and…it had slowed down their training. Split their focus.

At the same time, it’d provided some protection and preparation for the side she was evidently on. It wasn’t as intimidating to face an intoxicating gas as it was to face the barrel of a gun.

Darius flicked his gaze to the men against the back wall. Seven of them, all with handguns. How trained were they, though?

His heart hammered against his ribcage, more thoughts flying at him. Alicia knew so goddamn much. She knew everything. She knew where Gray was, she knew all their addresses—the addresses of their loved ones. Fucking hell, she knew where Jayden and Justin were. And the guys had no fucking clue what she was planning on using against them.

Elliott took a step forward. “Give me one reason not to blow your head off where you stand, Ally.”

She wasn’t bothered in the slightest. “I can give you several, darlin’, and we’ll get to that soon,” she drawled. Then she held up the remote and pressed a button.

The curtain began sliding upward with a mechanical whir, revealing six booths inch by inch. All filled. Each booth had four chairs, occupied by guests. Their private security were positioned behind them. Luxury tanks, crammed with millionaire slavers decked out in their finest clothes and jewelry, snacking on caviar and champagne, safe behind protective glass.

Alfred and his wife sat in one of the middle booths. He was short, she was not. He was slender and bald, she was…not. Judging by the wife’s look of disdain alone, Darius’s instinct told him she ran this organization as much as Alfred did.

None of the guests were smiling. Not a single one. But they didn’t look worried either. They thought they would remain safe.

“You’re our entertainment tonight, gentlemen!” Alicia declared joyfully. “We deserve some fun after the hell you’ve put us through—”

Darius just barely registered the shift in Ryan’s rifle before the deafening sound of a shot ricocheted through the air. A fraction of a second later, one of the armed guards dropped to the floor. Blood gushed out of the black dot on his forehead and moved every finger in the room closer to a trigger.

“Do we look like we’re in the mood for your games, you traitorous whore?” Ryan asked in an eerily calm voice. Alicia knew where he lived too. Where his wife, partner, sons, and stepdaughter lived.

Alicia’s jaw ticked, and she couldn’t hide her anger and surprise fast enough. Though, she tried. She took a breath, smoothed down her dress, and cleared her throat.

“I wouldn’t do that again if I were you,” she advised. “But fine—no theatrics. You dying will be entertaining enough.”

What was her leverage? Darius’s calculating mind spun to find her weapon of choice, because it sure as fuck wasn’t any of the guards behind her. They meant nothing to her. She also knew Darius and the others well enough to realize that the guards didn’t pose a major threat to them.

It had to be people, a notion that made Darius sick. She had a gun aimed at someone else, didn’t she? Gray? Ryan’s kids? Dante’s mother? It could be anyone.

“You’re a disgrace to your father’s memory,” Elliott murmured.

Alicia’s eyes flashed with fury. “My father was a damn fool. He could’ve been anything—he could’ve risen to power, but—”

“He had honor,” Darius filled in quietly. “A backbone. He knew what loyalty was.”

At that, a slow smile spread on Alicia’s lips. “Loyalty is nothing but a tool to make a dog heel. The only thing I serve are my personal interests, and you’ve fucked with them.” She was giving herself away. Alfred meant nothing to her either. This was about money. “It took me four goddamn years to establish a working relationship between Lange and my associates in Colombia. And all of it went down the fucking drain when you imbeciles torched that yacht. Because I know it was you, Darius.”

She was part of the drug trade. Holy fuck.

“I couldn’t for the life of me understand how everything had gone sideways,” she went on, almost in wonder. Then she offered Darius a dry look. “Until I heard you’d been involved.” She sighed and gazed off into nothingness. The theatrics were making a return, and it pissed Darius off.

He lowered his shotgun and raised his Sig instead.

Alicia smiled wistfully. “I was in the middle of making my own plans for you when you called me. It was gonna be good. So, so good.” She shrugged a little. “But this worked out too.”

“Good to know.” Darius pushed it. He aimed at a guard and shot him in the head, then quickly took down another. Eventually, when Alicia finally revealed her reason for staying confident, Darius wanted as few other opponents as possible.

“Don’t fucking do that, I said!” Alicia screamed.

Ryan caught on and killed one more. “Why?”

The three last guards didn’t look cocky anymore; that was for sure.

They had to know they were expendable.

Alicia let out a short shriek and literally stomped her foot—before she took on a murderous expression and pointed the remote at the flat-screens. “I’m done with you. Enjoy the damn show.”

All three screens came to life at once and sent a chill down Darius’s spine. To the right, a slight-framed guy on his knees, with a burlap sack over his head and a gun pressing to his temple. Who the hell was it? The screen to the left showed a similar setup, only that man was standing up. Bag over his head, gun pointed at him, white backgrounds.

If that’s Gray…

Darius swallowed a bout of nausea. The middle screen didn’t help. It was a video feed of the front of the house that Willow shared with their pop’s sister, Aunt Britt.

Ryan took aim directly at Alicia. “You realize if you hurt one hair on her head…”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that because she’s my ticket out of here,” she replied airily.

“Darius.” Dante’s quiet voice filled Darius’s ears—and presumably the other guys’ as well. But there was no way Alicia could hear since she’d taken off her headset. “AJ’s pulling up. We’re going to head out and apprehend him silently. Cough if you disagree.”

Darius didn’t do a fucking thing.

Movement caught in the corner of his eye, and he flicked his gaze to see Alfred leaning toward the window. It looked like there was a display of some sort, and he pressed a button.

“Get on with it, Alicia. I’d like to see the Quinn brothers perish sometime today. We still have another auction to attend.”

Darius narrowed his eyes. The twitch of annoyance in Alicia’s expression didn’t go unnoticed, and he replayed her own words. Willow was supposedly her ticket out of here.

Alicia was a genius, but she was in way over her head here. Book smarts didn’t translate to field smarts, of which she had very few. She was alone. She wasn’t with Alfred. And he wasn’t with her.

The plan formed itself. If they could cause a rift between Alicia and Alfred, Darius and the others could get the upper hand again.

“Fair enough. Before we signal to River and Reese that it’s safe to come, here’s a little reunion for you, Darius.” Alicia plastered a saccharine smile on her face and pushed play on one of the screens. “Friedrich, can you hear us?”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was the man whose hand was holding the gun to…someone’s head.

“Darius, my darling.” Alicia sent him a grin before walking over to the bar table, where she opened the laptop. “I’m sure you remember a dashing Southern boy named Cole.”

You will fucking burn, bitch.

Darius took an automatic step forward and tightened his grip on his gun. “I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, stop it.” She waved him off. “This isn’t on me, for the record. It was Alfred’s request to see two of your rescue dogs die before your eyes. Now, you’ll have to forgive me—I’ve been having some connection issues with… Hmm. Charlie, Charlie, Charlie. Where are you, sweet boy? Connect, connect…”

Not Charlie.

Fuck, this was gonna kill Gray.

Before Alicia could do anything else, the screens went completely dark—including her laptop. “What the—”

Then Willow’s face popped up, everywhere, and she was frantic. “Can you hear me?” she stammered. “D-don’t trust her! Alicia—don’t trust! She’s shutting me out!” Her shaky, labored voice and the raw panic in her eyes pulled forward every protective fiber in Darius, and his heart crawled up in his throat. “I’m mirroring the s-s—the screens!” She tried to fill in the blanks with sign language, signing over and over that Alicia couldn’t be trusted.

“Shut it off!” Alicia shouted. “Shut it the fuck off! Silence her!”

“She doesn’t have hostages, Darius!” Willow screamed, her chest heaving. “She has nothing! I-I—” She gulped and screwed her eyes shut. “I have proof,” she rasped. Darius and Ryan exchanged a quick glance and then bolted into action. “She and AJ—it’s their plan. I c-can’t—”

“Restrain her!” Darius barked and lifted his shotgun again. “Take out the guards!”

Alicia screamed out, her face flushed with fury, and the sound of gunfire followed. While Elliott ran straight into Alicia and flattened her to the floor, Darius cocked the shotgun and started unloading on the glass-enclosed booths. Ryan covered for him and took out one guard.

Motherfucker!

Mayhem exploded—or maybe it was pain. Both, definitely both. Fire spread from Darius’s leg, and his knee caved. He just barely managed to find stability on his other leg. The glass shattered and broke after the second shot, but he didn’t stop there. He kept shooting. He reveled in the chaos that erupted from within the booths; he wanted to hear their screams of terror.

“We need backup!” Ryan yelled. “D, get in here!”

“Someone’s gotta reach out to the Tenleys!” Darius hobbled closer to a booth where no one was left alive, and he grunted as he hurried to refill the chamber. At that point, a few guards from the inside of another couple of booths started firing back. Their guns took a lot longer to breach the glass, but now Darius had no choice but to face them. As one spider-webbed window was kicked out forcefully, several pieces of glass shattered across Darius’s face, neck, and arms.

“Nooo! Get away from me—kill them, you useless inbreds!” Alicia wailed.

The cacophony from the screaming guests, the rapid gunfire, and the windows breaking were enough to make Darius’s ears ring, despite the protection he wore.

“Darius, duck!”

Darius dropped to a crouch and lost his breath, the pain was so overpowering. Tears of shock flooded his eyes. His knee—oh fuck, his knee. Now his shoulder too. Something had hit him, but it wasn’t a bullet this time.

Through blurry vision and with pain and adrenaline racing, he grabbed his nearest handgun and aimed at a guard trying to jump out from a booth. The bullet flew through the air and hit him in the neck, and Ryan was quick to turn his rifle on the others in there.

The next person Darius saw was Alfred’s wife. She screamed in broken English for the guards to get things under control and to kill the “merchandise” if they had to.

Rage tinted Darius’s stare, and he managed to pull himself up. The woman hadn’t seen him there. Her eyes grew large as he slid his gun between her eyes. She froze. She didn’t move a single inch, and Darius hoped with all his heart that Alfred watched from the corner where he was cowering.

“Burn in hell,” Darius rasped and pulled the trigger.

Two more shots rang out right after, and then…nothing. Just a steady monotonic ringing sound in his ears.

He heaved a ragged breath and looked around himself.

Alicia was seated on the floor underneath one of the flat-screens, hands and feet zip-tied, mascara-streaked tears trailing down her cheeks, and more than enough duct tape covering her mouth. It went around her head too.

Dead guards all over. The floors inside the booths were a mass grave of slave owners.

Two people had been spared—for now. Alicia and Alfred.

Elliott was currently dragging the man out of his hiding spot.

Ryan came over to Darius and winced. “I gotta…” He eyed Darius’s shoulder. “It ain’t deep. I’mma pull it.”

Darius nodded and braced himself.

But the blade inserted into his shoulder had absolutely nothing on the pain in his leg.

“Recovery unit’s here,” Tariq hollered down the corridor. “Should I bring AJ?”

Darius glanced at Alicia, seeing her widened eyes, and knew the answer. “No. Keep them separated. We still need to know where the other victims are.”

“Shut up,” Ryan said. “Let the others handle shit while I dress this. You’re losing blood.”

Fine. If they were going to take a quick break, then Darius was gonna light up a smoke.

Jesus Christ, he better not pass out.

* * *

Darius gnashed his teeth against the pain as Ryan inspected his knee to see if they could get the bullet out. It was the perfect time to call Casey, when it sounded like he was being railed by a monster.

“Two hours should be enough, right?” he panted.

He didn’t know what was worse, the gunshot wound or the tourniquet around his thigh.

“For what? And sit still, dammit.”

“For Casey and Boone to raid AJ’s house.” Darius swallowed dryly and leaned back against the wall.

They’d found a small kitchen behind the showroom, and the floor was Darius’s hospital bed.

“Yeah, that’s not my concern right now.” Ryan rose from the floor and held a towel under the tap. “You’re lucky the bullet didn’t go through your kneecap.”

“Lucky—yeah, I feel lucky.” Where was his helmet? He was ready to throw up in it. He was also ready for Gray to fuss over him, but the knucklehead was busy. They hadn’t even seen each other yet. Rescuing trafficking victims took precedence. “Well—I don’t know if anything else is gonna go down. Maybe Alicia’s got more tricks up her sleeve. I’ll give Casey two hours and light a fire under his ass.”

As Ryan got ready to remove the bullet, Darius called Casey.

Shit, this was gonna hurt.

“Darius! Is it time?” Casey greeted.

“You have two hours, starting right now,” he gritted out. “Clean him out—I don’t care—but the Feds will show up as soon as you’re outta there, and it can’t look like he’s been robbed.” Oh fuck, oh fuck. He had to look away right as Ryan dug the forceps into his knee. It was right there, maybe two or three inches above his kneecap. “Bring the photocopies and remove the transmitter,” he panted through the pain. Then he had to hang up. He couldn’t cope another fucking second, and he groaned loudly.

“That was one big bullshit fire you lit under his ass,” Ry muttered in concentration.

“Yeah, but now I won’t have to worry about them. In two hours, they’ll be done—son of a whore!”

“I got it, I got it, I got it. Sit still, buddy. I got it.” Ryan withdrew from the wound, and Darius heard the snick-sounding clank once the bullet hit the tiles on the floor. “It’s intact. That’s good.”

Darius drew in a deep breath through his nose and did everything he could to unclench.

“Hostile!” someone shouted, sounding far away, and it was followed by two rapid shots that sent Darius’s pulse through the roof.

Gray. Gray could be out there.

“Go, go, go,” he demanded in a rush.

Ryan scrambled off the floor, grabbed his rifle, and bolted from the little kitchen.

“I’m fucking retiring after this,” Darius growled and dug through the medic kit. He had to stop the bleeding if he wanted to use his leg.

“All clear!” That was Dante. His voice carried with an echo across the compound. “No injuries!”

Thank fuck.

By the time Ryan came back, Darius had removed the tourniquet, dressed the wound tightly, and was in the middle of pushing himself off the floor, using the shotgun to support his weight.

“You’re outta your goddamn mind, brother.” Ryan hurried over and helped him up. “You should stay here until we’re done.”

“I wanna interrogate AJ.” Darius let out a breath, pathetically winded, and sought out the nearest source of water. He was parched. “Is River back? Give me a rundown on what I’ve missed.”

“I don’t know a whole lot, only that River had a bad feeling about the op too, and as soon as we entered the compound and lost communications, they got in touch with Willow.” Ryan opened a cupboard and found a glass that he filled with water. “He said something—he put an extra…” He trailed off and picked up Darius’s Kevlar vest off the floor. “Damn. Here it is.”

Darius gulped down some water and eyed the little gadget, no larger than a quarter. “A microphone?”

Ry nodded once. “It lost its signal too, but not before they heard about Alicia fucking us over.”

There was nothing left to say at this point—about the operation, anyway. Everything had gone wrong. Everything. From the fucking get-go, from the first time Darius began having doubts, he should’ve confided in Ryan and River, whom he felt stood closest to him in the planning. Actually, Dante too. And River should’ve voiced his concerns as well. But since they all had such intricate history, the trust had been blind.

“I have to let this lifestyle go, Ry,” he admitted grimly. “I’m not cut out for it anymore.”

“You’re preaching to the choir.” Ryan sighed heavily and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Had it not been for Willow, who knows—I just… We’re not what we used to be.”

No, they weren’t. They weren’t as sharp, they weren’t as tactical, they weren’t as fast.

Ry cleared his throat and adjusted the strap of his rifle over his chest. “Anyway. River’s here—he’s interrogating Alfred. Reese, Niko, and Gray are bringing twenty-two survivors to safety.” Twenty-two, that was good. Now they just had to locate more of them. “By the way, the hostiles? Two guards hiding out in the back. They were the ones holding guns to the two boys earlier. They had a live stream set up right here in the compound. She orchestrated the whole thing, Darius. This is Alicia—and possibly AJ. She didn’t just play us, she played Alfred too.”

Darius winced and set down the glass. He had to admit, it was a huge hit to his ego. “I take it those boys are safe?”

“Aye, the guards returned them to where the others were before they went into hiding. The kids’re being brought to the storage unit we agreed upon.”

All right, then.

Feeling a bit light-headed, Darius wanted to get to wherever he could interrogate AJ as soon as possible, because he could sit down there. Sit down and be useful at the same time.

They were far from finished. Resting would have to wait.

“Help me get to…” He pointed tiredly in the general direction of the rest of the compound, his head getting heavier and heavier.

How much blood had he lost?

Ryan frowned at him. He became blurry. The contrasts of his face, they got softer.

“Darius—” Ry sounded weird. But one movement crystallized in Darius’s mind, and it was Ryan’s drowsy blink. And how he swayed in place.

Panic gripped the edges of Darius’s consciousness as he realized it wasn’t just him. It wasn’t blood loss.

It was in the air.

“Get out,” he wheezed. “The gas masks—”

Ryan muttered something Darius couldn’t decipher and stumbled out of the kitchen.

Nausea and dizziness weighed him down further, and his surroundings blurred together completely. As he grasped on to the kitchen counter, he heard someone in the distance shout. A man’s voice. He couldn’t identify it, or even tell if it was in warning, in fear, or anything else. And before he knew it, the lights went off in the kitchen and the hallway right outside. There was more yelling, but it grew fainter and fainter.

Eyes screwed shut.

He lost his footing and tumbled to the floor…

“Knuckle… Knuckleh-head,” he rasped.

Pain won. The darkness won.

He exhaled.