Page 24 of Raven's Mark
She studies me for a long moment, weighing that. "Partners, then. For real this time. No more secrets and no more decisions made for me."
"Partners."
She turns it over for a moment before she speaks again. "I spent years hating you for that night. For dragging me away while my uncle died, for putting me on that plane, for disappearing without a word."
"I know."
"Do you?" She takes a step closer. "Because I need you to understand what it was like. I woke up in Virginia with strangers and no idea where you were. I learned that Uncle Martin was dead, that you'd killed your own father. I didn't know if I should thank you or hunt you down."
"You had every right to hate me."
"I did hate you." She pauses. "But you saved my life. And you sacrificed so much because of that decision, even when I had no idea you were doing it. So now I don't know what to feel."
I don't have an answer for that. I don't know how to fix ten years of complicated history and trauma.
"You don't have to feel anything," I finally say. "You just have to stay alive long enough for us to figure this out."
"What now?"
"Now we wait. We watch. We gather intel and we stay ready."
"For what?"
"For the cartel to make their next move. For Harlan to tip his hand. For Carmichael to show us what he's really after." I move away from the window. "For whatever comes next."
"That's not much of a plan."
"It's the only plan we've got for now."
She doesn't argue with that. We're playing a game against opponents who hold better cards and more resources, and all we can do is survive long enough to find an opening.
"I should check the perimeter." I head for the door. "Motion sensors, sight lines. I want to make sure Knox and Beckett didn't leave any tracks we need to cover."
"Jesse."
I stop with my hand on the doorknob.
"Thank you. For bringing them in." She pauses. "It helps, knowing we're not doing this alone."
I meet her gaze one more time and nod. Then I step outside into the afternoon heat. The sun is already high, the air thick with the hum of insects in the cedar.
As I walk the tree line, something settles inside my chest. It isn't hope, because hope gets people killed in this business. But with Raven inside and my brothers in the fight, something has shifted. The waiting and watching and reacting have sharpened into something familiar, the feeling of being coiled to strike and just needing the opportunity.
I'd call it readiness.
7
RAVEN
The cabin's porch wraps around three sides, and I discover this by accident when I can't sit still any longer.
I've been awake since before dawn, lying in that ridiculously comfortable bed with my mind running laps around the fact that my safety now depends on the Hollister brothers. Sleep doesn't come easy when the list of people who want you dead keeps growing and the list of people you can trust fits on one hand with fingers left over.
The coffee is still warm when I pour a mug and push through the front door into early morning air that smells like cedar and dew-soaked earth. The countryside rolls out in every direction in green hills dotted with scrub oak, and the sky above is that particular shade of pale blue that only exists in Texas before the heat sets in.
I walk the porch slowly with my mug in hand, cataloging the property the way I've been trained. The cabin sits in a natural depression, invisible from above, surrounded by a perimeter of cedar and live oak that provides both cover and concealment. The driveway is the only approach by vehicle, and it's narrow enough that a single shooter could hold it from the porch. Jessedidn't just build a home out here. He built a stronghold and disguised it as a home.
The south side of the porch overlooks a clearing that slopes down toward a dry creek bed. A weathered workbench sits against the cabin wall, and Jesse is there, seated on a low stool with a rifle across his lap. His back is to me, but his shoulders shift the moment my boots scuff the planks. He knew I was coming before I rounded the corner.
