y P

e edge of my pillow, my face settling into an emot

ountain air, and high-octane racing fuel rushed into the cabin, instan

ubhouse. Concrete blast walls were lined with heavy machine-gun emplacements, and ove

ay a word. He drew a polished hunting knife from his belt, pulled his l

blood welled up, drippi

the Cross has returned! Anyone who draws breath against my daughter

the hundred voice

h the bunker, followed by the heavy slap of bloody hands again

was real. This was the raw, untamed power of th

thout asking for permission, he slid his massive, tattooed arms beneath

urmured, his deep voice rumb

s thick neck, inhaling the dark scent o

ted swagger, while Ryder followed with my medical drip, glarin

house suite of the fortress. The room was massive, equipped with floor-t

labor, dressing me in soft black silk pajamas before tucking me into an enormous king-sized

my life, I felt comple

oor to my bedro

slim black tablet under his arm. He set the tray on the nightsta

e temperature with a silver spoon. "Your re

ng a small sip before nodding toward the glowing sc

udio-synced wiretap feed. "A little show for your recovery. Our surveillan

ngling loosely from his fingers. The bass from the bar's sound system rattled the dirty beer bottles on the low table while S

Viper had sent to the clinic stumbled in, his left arm

rackled through the tablet's speakers as he sho

e wouldn't sign. She tore the papers in half. And some guy... some guy in a su

ammed his heavy glass tumbler onto the concrete flo

ing the prospect hard in the ribs. "You let a soft-handed civilia

honey, don't be mad. You know what Roxy is like. She probably hired some cheap downtown lawyer or slept with

rough his greasy dark hair. "A lawyer... That bitch

sting her chin on his leather cut. "She won't last forty-eight hours on

ported massive engine movement on the south highway an hour ago

sn't give a fuck about our territory. They're probably moving contra

"Tomorrow morning, put word out to every tow yard and pawn shop. If anyone sees Roxy Cross on ou

g the feed and letting the quie

lush pillows. "You knew, didn't you? About

. He raised his gaze, the dim bedside lamp ref

three in the country. But did you really think you could route high-level military-grade telemetry thr

ed. "You were s

. "Every time federal cyber-crimes got close to your node, I routed their trace into a dead-e

warm broth, the realization sinking into my core

e," I said, my voice hardening into

ed with dark approva

me the

ner from his pocket

private line. It rang on

gantly on the other end. "

inter. "Tomorrow at noon. The neutral Church bar on Route 9.