“We’re trapped,” Brock said. “There’s no way through.”
“Sam’s bleeding out,” she said, heart thudding. “Brock, we can’t just sit here—”
“Fuck!”She jumped when Brock slammed his palm against the steering wheel, the sound cracking through the cab. “I’m sorry, okay? We don’t have any other choice.”
Before she could ask what he was planning, Brock swerved suddenly, tires crunching wet gravel, and they drove down a long, bumpy driveway. Trees loomed on either side, branches lashing at the truck from the wind. A flash of lightning illuminated outbuildings and a dark house. Brock killed the lights, then the engine.
Darkness swallowed them, but not silence. The storm outside raged, shaking their truck, tearing at her soul. They couldn’t stay here, she knew. Sam would die. Her brother, her younger brother, her only brother. She couldn’t let that happen.
A sob escaped her throat; she swallowed it.
“Do you trust me, Rena?” Brock said quietly.
She stared at him. The anger and fear in his eyes. And the love.
“Of course I do,” she whispered. “I love you.”
“We need to hole up tonight. Wait out the storm. We’ll patch Sam up. Assess his injuries. Then finish the job.”
She hesitated, heart hammering. “Okay,” she said at last. “Where?”
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
Rena watched him disappear into the dark, every instinct screaming not to let him go. But she stayed. She held on to Sam’s hand, whispered reassurances, tried to believe them herself.
The rain was so thick she couldn’t see outside the truck. Thenlightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the fields in stark white for a heartbeat before the dark came again. The trees writhed in the wind. Thunder rolled so loud it made her chest rattle. And she’d seen the dark house again in that moment of light.
She hoped it was empty; she feared it wasn’t.
But they had no choice.
“You’ll be okay,” she whispered to Sam, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. His eyes fluttered closed. “I’ve got you.”
“I’m going to be fine, Rena,” Sam said, his voice trying foreverything is coming up rosesbut sounding more likethis is the end of the world.
She hated this godforsaken rural county, this miserable state. The endless dark. The isolation. Out here, there were no sirens. No cell service. No one to save her brother.
And she couldn’t stop thinking—what if Baldwin had a silent alarm? What if someone had seen the truck? What if Baldwin wasn’t dead and could identify them? Or worse, what if he was dead and they were now murderers?
What if this was the beginning of the end?
“One more job,” she murmured to herself. “Just one more. Then we’re done.”
But the words felt empty. If Sam died, money couldn’t bring him back. Money would mean nothing to her without her family.
Ten minutes later, Brock returned, soaked and pale.
“I didn’t hurt nobody,” he said, breathing heavily. “But they understand.”
She turned toward him slowly, her stomach sinking. His eyes were too bright. His voice too calm.
“Brock…” she said, warning in her voice.
He looked away. “We need to save Sammy. Help me get him inside.”
She didn’t move.
Because she knew.
