Even then, his words don't fade. They stay in my head exactly the way he said them, repeating and digging in deeper every time I try to push them out.
My vision darkens as I grip the wheel harder, my knuckles paling under the strain while I force my focus forward, but it doesn't matter because everything is already spiraling in a direction I can't stop.
I think about the file I pulled up before I walked out, and the details come back in fragments that sharpen as they settle. Names, locations, schedules, a list of people who think they are untouchable. Most of it blurs together now, but one detail stays clear and burns brighter than the rest.
Victor Voss.
He is hosting a gala tonight, and the image forms in my head with unsettling clarity. It is black tie, set inside a building made of glass and steel, with money layered so deep it turns into arrogance. The room will be full of people who believe they exist above consequence, above fear, above anything that might reach them where they stand.
The guest list is exactly what it should be. Collective members, donors, men and women who fund unspeakable crimes, all wrapped in layers of private security built to keep people like me out.
Grant will be there.
My breathing turns uneven as my thoughts fracture and collide, refusing to slow down.
I see his face in my head. I see the moment he realizes I am there. I see the shift in his expression when he understands what that means. I see the way his body will move when I put a bullet through him, and I see the way he will hit the floor.
I don't care if I die tonight, I only care that he does. The thought doesn't scare me. It settles into place like it has always been there, waiting for everything else to fall away so it can take over completely.
The road stretches ahead of me, dark, empty, cutting through the night like it is leading me exactly where I need to go. There is nothing behind me anymore, and there is nothing left that can pull me back.
I press harder on the gas and drive, already gone from anything that might have tried to save me.
Chapter 59
Brooke
The panic burns itself out somewhere past the freeway on-ramp, but the aftermath lingers, settling into my body in a way that feels worse.
Beau drives while I stare straight ahead, my hands locked together in my lap so he won't see them shaking. I press my fingers together hard enough that the joints ache, focusing on the pain because it is easier than focusing on everything else.
It took more than it should have to get him in this car.
Beau didn't want to leave. He kept saying Seth would come back eventually, that someone needed to be there when he did, and that walking out now could make things worse.
I told him I would go alone if he didn't come with me.
That was the only thing that worked.
Travis gave me everything before we left. Locations, access points, entry routes, and the name of the event Victor Voss is hosting tonight. His hands moved fast across the keyboard while he explained it, his voice tight, his eyes flicking between the screen and me like he was trying to decide if he should say more and choosing not to.
He stayed behind without arguing. Someone had to be there if Seth came back.
“I led them to her,” I say.
Beau’s eyes flick toward me for half a second before returning to the road. “What do you mean?”
My throat tightens, and I swallow against it, forcing the words out anyway. “After the warehouse. After we killed Elliot. I made Seth take me to Samantha’s house.”
Beau’s jaw shifts slightly. “Grant has resources. He finds people. That wasn’t you.”
“It was. He had to know where to look. I walked him straight to her.”
Silence fills the car. The road stretches ahead in a long, dark line, the headlights cutting through it without making it feel any less empty.
“Don’t do that,” Beau says finally. “Don’t put that on yourself.”
I shake my head, my gaze fixed on the windshield. “I can’t get it out of my head. Her face. Her voice. The way she was talking to him.”
