Wouldn’t surprise me.
“How do you know about this so-called secret door?” Dominic demands. He folds his arms over his chest and scowls at Doyle’s back.
Doyle ignores him as he begins to run his hands up and down the wall.
Searching for something, perhaps?
“Dad showed it to me,” Doyle says, his voice detached, without any inflection or emotion whatsoever.
I exchange a glance with Beckett, who still stands beside me.
Is this another trick?
“When the game first started,” Doyle continues, “I told him I wanted nothing to do with it. He dragged me over here and told me if I was going to be a little bitch, then I could get the fuck out.”
“Is Harvey still here?” Dom asks, his scowl deepening, creating harsh lines in his artfully handsome face.
Doyle’s lips thin. “Probably.” He flicks his gaze in his brother’s direction before refocusing on his task. “You know how much he loves to hunt.”
A shudder reverberates through me.
Harvey is a disgusting, despicable man. Fortunately, he’s also delusional. He seems to genuinely believe that, sooner or later, Dominic will fall in line and become a loyal member of POP. That mentality is probably the only thing keeping Dom alive.
Satisfaction paints itself across Doyle’s face when he seems to find what he’s looking for. He clicks a tiny button—so minuscule it practically blends into the wall—and a panel swings open. Without even a single crack visible, I never would’ve noticed the door was there to begin with.
“This leads to the back tunnels,” Doyle says in a rush. “I don’t know who you’re going to face in there, but?—”
“But it’ll be better than who I’ll face out here,” Reece finishes, his tone grave.
Doyle wordlessly nods.
“Give me a knife,” Reece demands, extending a hand in Dominic’s direction. Dom doesn’t hesitate before handing Reece the blade.
“One minute remaining,” a mechanical voice declares from a hidden speaker.
“You need to go,” I urge, practically shoving at Reece’s shoulders.
He doesn’t move. I can’t see his face with the mask on, but I have a feeling his eyes are on me, lasering in with intense focus.
“As soon as I’m free, I’ll do what I can to help,” he promises. “I have contacts. Resources. I was so close to taking down POP once. I can do it again.”
“You can only do that if you get the hell out of here,” I stress.
Reece continues to stare at me, almost as if he wants to say more, before heaving out a sigh. He lifts his gaze and focuses on the men surrounding me. “Take care of her.”
“Always do,” Zane grumbles.
Reece curses and then turns to run through the door. Doyle immediately reaches up to close it behind him.
I try to search for any seams, any lines, any indication at all that, a few seconds earlier, there was a door there.
I can’t find any.
“He made it,” I whisper, my knotted stomach easing. “He really made it.” Reece Whipers would make a formidable ally. He was the one who led us to POP’s trafficking network in the first place.
“We don’t know for sure,” Beckett reminds me, his tone gentle.
“But he’s a tough bastard. He’ll make it,” Zane says. Then, in a muffled voice, he adds, “Unfortunately.”
