Page 18 of Property of Booker

“Take them,” Slayer orders.

The feed erupts into motion. It is too fast for me to track individual movements. I just see the heat signatures collide and then fall. They work like a single, violent organism. I grip the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles turn white. My heart leaps into my throat. This is the moment when everything either changes or ends.

“Clear,” Shade says, his voice flat and calm.

They stand over the fallen guards for a heartbeat before they kick open the heavy door to the cell. I lean so close my nose touches the screen. They go inside. I hold my breath until my lungs burn.

“Got them,” Booker says, his voice cracking with relief. “I have the kid and Branson’s family. They’re all here.”

“Let’s move,” Slayer says.

I exhale, the tension leaving my body all at once. They have all of them. They are actually getting everyone out. I watch them hoist the small form up while Shade and Ozzie usher Branson’s wife and daughter toward the exit. The way they handle the survivors is incredibly gentle. It is a sharp contrast to the brutal efficiency they used seconds ago.

“Move fast,” Slayer commands. “We’ve got eyes on the road. We need to hit the extraction point without delay.”

Enthusiastically, I watch with rapt attention as the group exits the farmhouse. The heat signatures disperse, moving toward the tree line where they left the bikes.

I track them all the way.

Every step they take away from that house feels like a weight lifting off my chest. They’re not leaving anyone behind. They are not breaking under the pressure.

“Packages are secure,” Ozzie reports. “We’re clear of the perimeter with all civilians.”

“Copy,” Booker responds. “The digital path is scrubbed.”

I sink back into my chair, my hands finally letting go of the desk. My ribs scream in protest, but I don’t care. They made it. My son is safe, and Branson’s family is finally free from Jerome’s shadow. They have them, and for the first time in five years, the world does not feel like it is closing in on me. I stare at the empty screen, my mind racing with what comes next.

Branson releases an exhaled breath, whooping and hollering, “Hot damn! They did it, Kendall.”

“Yeah, they did,” I whisper.

“You listening, Kendall?” Booker asks over the airway.

Flicking on my com, I tell him, “I am.”

“Get ready. Now that we’ve secured everyone, we’re coming for you.”

CHAPTER

ELEVEN

Booker

Serpent keeps the cargo door propped open as we scramble toward the extraction point. We hustle the family inside, their faces pale and drawn. Splicer’s already there, his movements precise as he assesses their condition. He works with a quiet focus that drains the terror from their tense bodies. He wraps a heavy blanket around Kolter’s shoulders and whispers something meant only for the boy.

Kolter looks just like Kendall. It’s strange seeing her features on him, he’s definitely her mini-me, she couldn’t deny him as being hers even if she wanted to. Which she wouldn’t, she’s fought tooth and nail to keep him safe. He’s got the same stubborn glint in his gaze despite the bruises from his time as a captive. I had him ride shotgun with me on the way here, I wasn’t about to hand that responsibility off to anyone else. In my mind, he’s mine to look after now. After all, his mother owns my heart, she just doesn’t know it yet.

I keep close to him while Splicer conducts his examination. But the moment I attempt to move toward the huddle where Slayer, Shade, and Ozzie are waiting for me, he panics. “Don't leave me,” he pleads, shooting out a hand to seize my wrist, halting my departure.

“I’m not leaving, Kolter,” I say, keeping my voice low and steady. I crouch down so we are eye level, wanting him to understand I’ve got his back. I gesture toward the group standing near the open door. “See them? That’s Slayer, Shade, and Ozzie. I just need to touch base with my brothers for a second. You keep your eyes locked on me, okay? I’m not going anywhere, and you can watch me the entire time.”

“You really won’t leave?” he asks, his lips trembling slightly.

“Only when it becomes absolutely necessary,” I respond, refusing to lie to him. I want to build our relationship on the right foot, one chock full of honesty. Even kids don’t like to be bullshitted, something I’ve learned from spending time with Elodie when Icer lets her out of his sights. “Eventually, Kolter, I will have to go and rescue your mom.”

He tilts his head in confusion. “My mom? I don’t have one. Dad told me she didn’t want me and dropped me off when I was just a baby. He said he was hardening me up so I wouldn’t grow up to be a pussy. That’s why he hit me and let the others teach me how to be a man.”

I reel back, stunned by his words. While I was well aware of Jerome's monstrous nature, the magnitude of the deception he employed to disconnect him from the truth leaves me speechless. Forcing myself to take a few deep, stabilizing breaths, I fight down the urge to launch into a furious, curse-laden tirade, desperate to avoid causing the boy any further trauma. “Kolter, you need to listen to me very carefully. Your mother never walked away from you, you were stolen away from her. She wanted you then, and she still wants you now. The truth is, your father has committed terrible acts against many innocent people, including your own mother.”