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I’ve crossed paths with him before. If Cullen, their Prez, wants to send a message, he sends Slate.

He looks me over slowly, like he’s cataloging damage for later. “You look like shit.”

I glance past him toward the trail. A fifth man steps from behind a tree. Then a sixth. They planned for me. Under different circumstances, I might be flattered.

“Been following me?” I ask, my voice steadier than I feel.

“Wasn’t hard,” he says. “You got rid of the phone, but you kept the truck.”

His gaze shifts toward the parking lot.

“Hard to disappear when you’re driving something half the county recognizes.”

I think of the truck sitting outside different motels, gas stations, bars. Places where men like Ridgeback know exactly who to ask and how much cash it takes to loosen a stranger’s memory.

I destroyed the easiest way to find me. I should have destroyed everything else too.

“What do you want?”

Slate laughs. “You.”

“That’s disappointing.”

“You killed four of ours.”

“Should’ve been five.”

The scarred man takes a step forward.

Slate holds up one hand. “Not yet.”

The phrasing matters. They don’t intend to kill me here. I look back toward the river. Nothing moves on the opposite bank.

No Raven.

Maybe she wasn’t warning me.

Maybe she was leading me here.

Something in my chest lets go, as easy as breathing out. If she came for me, I’m ready. Whatever’s on the other side of tonight, I’d rather find it walking toward her than keep dragging myself through one more empty motel room without her.

Slate follows my gaze. “You expecting somebody?”

“No.”

“Could’ve fooled me. Heard you yelling all the way from the upper trail.”

The men behind him laugh.

I don’t.

Slate’s smile widens. “Calling for your dead girl?”

My body moves before thought catches up. One second, I’m standing near the water. The next, my fist connects with his mouth. Bone cracks beneath my knuckles as he stumbles backward. I drive into him before the others can close in. We hit the ground hard. My hand finds his throat.

Someone grabs the back of my sweatshirt.

I twist and throw an elbow.