Beau tilts his head slightly. “Accuracy.”
I stand and walk past them, adjusting the holster at my side until it clicks snugly into place.
“Try not to miss,” I tell Travis. “And maybe don’t die.”
Travis blinks. “Seriously? That’s the game plan?”
Beau slings a coat over one shoulder, brushing invisible lint off the lapel. “If you’re lucky, they’ll shoot Seth first. He’s prettier.”
“Gee, thanks,” I mutter.
Travis points at both of us, exasperated. “I hate how casually you say things like that.”
“He’s right,” I say. “If they spot us, don’t try to be a hero. Just get to the car.”
Beau turns back toward the main hallway. “Honestly, you might want to just stay in the car anyway.”
Travis exhales. “I love being excluded.”
Beau looks at me as he grabs his keys. His expression finally sobers. “You sure you’re ready?”
No.
“Yes.”
Because it doesn’t matter if I am ready.
Pain doesn’t matter. Timing doesn’t matter. The odds don’t matter.
Only Brooke does.
I check the pistol’s chamber, slide a full clip into place, and tuck the weapon under my jacket.
“Let’s go.”
The drive to Black Ridge cuts through forest and shadow, the road narrowing until the trees press in close. Headlights skim bark and fog. The bass from somewhere far ahead pulses faintly through the night, a low thud you feel more than hear.
Beau drives with one hand on the wheel, relaxed, eyes forward. Travis sits behind us, fidgeting with the gun like it might bite him.
“Either of you ever consider therapy?” Travis asks.
Beau doesn’t look at him. “I have a bunker.”
“That’s not therapy.”
“It is for me.”
I close my eyes for a second, jaw tight. The dream keeps trying to crawl back in. I shove it down. There will be time for grief later. Right now, there’s work to do.
Travis exhales hard. “So… what’s my role here?”
“Don’t die,” Beau says.
Travis glances at the gun in his hands. “I haven’t done this before.”
Beau finally turns, reaches back, and takes the weapon from him. He checks it one-handed, smooth and fast, the kind of movement that comes from muscle memory.
“Well,” Beau slides the magazine in and racking the slide with his thumb, “there’s a first time for everything. But I don’t want you shooting your dick off.”
