Page 92 of Gatsby's Starlet
“She’s in there,” I said, my voice quieter than it should’ve been but tight enough to give me away anyway, the words dragging rough on the way out as I shifted again, already testing my footing.
“I know,” Devil answered, just as calm, just as steady, like we weren’t watching the whole place turn into a war zone.
“That’s my in,” I pushed, nodding toward a stretch of shadow along the side of the building where the light didn’t quite reach, where movement might get lost if it was fast enough, quiet enough, and I could feel it building in me now, that pull, that need to move before the chance disappeared.
His grip tightened just enough to stop that thought where it started.
“No,” he said, and there was nothing soft in it now, no room left for argument.
I exhaled hard through my nose, jaw tightening as I finally looked back at him, meeting his gaze through the branches, and he didn’t flinch, didn’t shift, just held it like he knew exactly where my head was at and wasn’t letting me go there.
“They’ll miss something,” I said, pushing anyway, because I couldn’t not, because every second we stayed put felt like one more second she was in there alone. “They’re focused on the main floor, on the men, on the guns, if she’s locked down somewhere, if she’s—”
“And you running in blind fixes that?” he cut in, quiet but cutting enough to land.
I didn’t answer.
Didn’t have one that didn’t sound exactly like what it was.
Reckless.
“She’s not dead,” Devil went on, his voice lowering just a fraction, not softer but more deliberate, like he was choosing each word before he let it out. “Drago didn’t want her dead.”
“They’re clearing the place,” he continued, eyes flicking back down to the raid before returning to me. “Room by room, slow and thorough, and that gives her a better shot than you dropping into the middle of that mess and turning it into something else.”
My hands flexed against the branch, grip tightening until the bark bit into my palms as I forced myself to stay where I was, even as every instinct in me pushed the other direction, telling me to move, to go, to do something instead of sitting up here watching it play out like I didn’t have a stake in it.
“She’s not just some woman in there,” I said, the words low, rough, dragged out whether I wanted them to be or not.
Devil didn’t miss a beat. “I know exactly who she is,” he replied, and there was something heavier in that now, something that cut through the rest of it. “That’s why you’re staying right where you are.”
Below us, another burst of gunfire cracked through the night, followed by shouting, movement shifting fast across the clearing as the DEA pushed deeper into the building, and I dragged my gaze back to it, locking in again, forcing my focus where it needed to be.
Watching.
Tracking.
Waiting.
Because as much as it went against everything in me, as much as it scraped raw under my skin, he was right.
Dropping in now wouldn’t save her.
It would just make sure neither of us made it out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I DIDN’T WAITlong enough for the silence tofeel safe, because safe didn’t exist down here, not really, and the longer we sat still the more it felt like the walls were settling around us, like the space itself was closing in one inch at a time.
“Come on,” I said, already moving back toward the wall, dropping to my knees where we’d covered the stone, my hands going straight to the dirt we’d packed over it.
Ruby didn’t move at first.
I could feel it behind me, the hesitation, the fear, the part of her that wanted to stay exactly where she was because at least there was no immediate danger in not moving.
“Ruby,” I said, sharper this time, not looking back. “Now.”
That got her.
