"It was nearby," I gasp out, my body trembling as the adrenaline rushes through my blood. "Data drive is secure. Mainframe is wiped."
Footsteps echo down the corridor, and I tense, but a familiar booming voice calls out through the haze. "Clear! House is secure!"
Kai, Miller, and Atlas sweep into the room, tactical weapons lowered, taking in the carnage with grim satisfaction.
"Nice work, boss," Miller grunts, kicking a weapon away from a downed gunman. "Looks like we cleared the main breachteam. We thought you two might need a hand, but clearly, you had it under control."
"We need to move," Kai says, his stoic face tight as he scans the perimeter monitors. "This was just the vanguard. If they had a strike team this big, they’ve got scouts in the surrounding hills. This location is burnt."
"He’s right," Easton grunts, keeping one arm locked securely around my waist. "Thanks for the backup, boys. Take the team and sweep the southern approach. I’m taking Stella to the secondary cabin in the canyon until we know the area is completely sanitized."
Within two minutes, Easton has me strapped securely into the passenger seat of his heavily armored SUV. He guns the engine, and we tear out of the safe house garage, tires screaming against the gravel as we shoot down the dark mountain road.
The adrenaline comedown hits me in violent waves. My hands shake so badly I have to clasp them in my lap, my chest tight as I draw in ragged breaths. Easton reaches across the center console, his massive, calloused hand completely engulfing mine.
"I've got you, baby," he says, his voice a low, soothing vibration that anchors me instantly. "You're safe."
"I know," I whisper, leaning my head against the cold glass.
I stare at the digital dash display. The real-time network scanner I patched into my phone flickers. A strange signal ping jumps across the screen, repeating every three seconds.
My eyes narrow. The anxiety in my chest turns into sharp, analytical excitement.
"Easton," I say, sitting up straight. "Look at the signal trace on the dash. They aren't trying to breach us anymore. They're tailing us from a parallel ridge."
Easton glances at the scope, his jaw tightening. "The vanguard at the house was a flushing action. They wanted to force us onto this highway."
"They're driving us right toward their main enforcer," I realize, my heart accelerating. "They think they still have our live GPS feed through the safe house relay."
A dark, dangerous smile spreads across Easton's face. "The flaw in their tracking algorithm."
"Exactly," I say, tapping furiously on my phone screen to deploy the decoy script we built in the command center. "I can feed their receiver a false coordinate shift. They think we’re heading straight down the main canyon road, but if I trip the delay now, it will look like our signal is stalling in the old timber yard two miles back."
"They'll pivot to set up an ambush at the timber yard," Easton finishes, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. "Exposing their head guy right in the open."
"Let's go hunt the hunter," I say firmly.
“Have I told you how fucking brilliant you are lately?” Easton peers over at me, a proud yet deviant smile tugging the corners of his lips. “Now, hold on, beautiful. It’s going to be a wild ride.”
With that, he wrenches the wheel, taking a sharp, unlit dirt turn-off that leads to the bluff overlooking the abandoned timber yard. He kills the headlights, coasting silently through the tall pines until we overlook the rusted tin structures below.
Through the trees, we see a black luxury sedan pull into the clearing. A tall, thick-set man in a dark suit steps out, holding a satellite phone to his ear as he looks around the dark, empty yard. It’s undoubtedly the Syndicate's lead enforcer, waiting to execute the trap that we just turned back on him.
"Stay in the rig," Easton instructs smoothly, reaching for his sidearm.
"Easton—"
He turns, catching my face in both hands and kissing me deeply, fiercely, leaving me breathless and dizzy. "This ends tonight, Stella. For us. For our future."
I watch from the front seat, my heart in my throat, as Easton slips out into the darkness like a shadow.
Below, the enforcer realizes too late that the clearing is empty. He raises his weapon, turning frantically, but Easton emerges from the tree line like a vengeful god.
"Looking for us?" Easton's voice echoes off the rusted metal walls.
The enforcer fires two quick shots, but Easton is already moving, taking cover behind a stack of timber. The exchange is fast, brutal, and decisive. Easton maneuvers around the flank, his shots ringing out loud and true through the crisp mountain air.
Two rapid double-taps ring out. Then, absolute silence.
