Because staying was going to destroy him.
Rain battered the apartment windows while voices carried faintly from downstairs.
Low.
Dangerous.
Controlled.
Ranger voices.
The kind men used before violence.
My chest tightened harder.
Because Vaughn finally understood something terrible:
The Rangers weren’t handing me over.
Not to the cartel.
Not to corrupt officials.
Not to anybody.
And men like Vaughn knew exactly what happened when Rangers decided somebody belonged under their protection.
A knock sounded softly against the wall.
Not loud.
Not demanding.
Hersh.
Always Hersh.
I closed my eyes briefly before whispering:
“This is bad.”
He stepped next to me.
The second he saw my face, his expression changed instantly.
Softened.
Concerned.
“Hey.”
That one word almost broke me all over again.
I laughed shakily under my breath.
“You say that like it fixes everything.”
“Sometimes it does.”
