Page 24 of Old Money, Deadly Secrets

He swept Dog and Jake first, the device remaining silent. Then he stepped up to Margaret. He ran the wand down her arms, across her torso, and up toward her neck.

Suddenly, the device flashed a furious crimson, emitting a rapid, high-pitched squeal.

Enzo stopped, his eyes locking onto the heavy, antique silver pendant resting against Margaret’s collarbone. “Take it off,” he commanded softly.

Dog watched Margaret’s face drain of color. Her hands trembled as she reached up and unclasped the necklace. She handed it to Enzo, looking utterly bewildered.

Enzo placed the pendant on the hood of the SUV and produced a heavy combat knife. With a practiced twist of the blade, he popped the silver backing off the ornate jewelry. Tucked perfectly inside the hollowed-out center was a microscopic GPS transponder, its tiny green light blinking in the darkness.

“A tracker,” Enzo grunted, his eyes meeting Dog’s with grim understanding. “That’s how his men kept finding her. How they knew to send the sniper to the farm.”

Margaret stared at the blinking light, her breathing turning shallow and frantic. She brought her hands to her mouth. “But my Nonna gave me this,” she whispered, her voice cracking in the quiet night air. She looked up at Dog, her eyes wide with shock. “Charles didn’t give it to me. I wear it every single day just to keep her close to my heart. I never take it off. Never.”

Enzo frowned. “He had to have access to it at some point, Margaret. This took time and specialized tools to install.”

Dog watched the exact moment the realization hit her. Her eyes widened further, the shock giving way to a sickening mix of terror and burning rage.

“The insurance policy,” she gasped out, looking between the men. “It was years ago. Very early in our marriage, before things got so bad. He insisted on taking all my jewelry to a professional appraiser so he could add it to a high-value insurance policy. That was the only time it ever left my sight.”

Dog felt a fresh wave of disgust twist in his gut. The sheer, calculated manipulation of it was staggering. Charles had violated her most precious, sentimental keepsake before she even realized what kind of monster she had married. He had literally tagged her like an animal, using her love for her grandmother as a leash.

Dog stepped close, his presence a solid wall against her sudden shivering. Without a word, Enzo carefully handed him the now empty silver pendant, the tiny transponder already extracted and held securely by Enzo’s thumb and forefinger. Dog’s large, calloused fingers were surprisingly gentle as he took the heirloom. He paused for a moment, looking at Margaret’s devastated face, then carefully re-clasped the necklace around her neck, tucking it beneath her collar. It was just silver now, no longer a betrayal.

“He’s blind now to your actual location,” Dog said quietly, his eyes locked on hers, burning with a fierce, unwavering promise. “From here on out, you belong to no one but yourself. This is yours, and only yours.” He nodded at Enzo, who still held the blinking transponder. “And we’re going to make sure this little device sends him on a very wild goose chase.” He looked at Enzo. “Let’s move.”

16 - MARGARET

The feel of the familiar silver pendant settling back against her skin was a strange comfort, a mix of relief and lingering horror. Dog’s words – “From here on out, you belong to no one but yourself. This is yours, and only yours.” – echoed in Margaret’s ears, a final, brutal punctuation mark on Charles’s insidious betrayal. Her grandmother’s necklace, a symbol of endurance and hope, had been defiled, used against her, but now it was hers again, cleansed of its sinister purpose. The microscopic transponder, now a tiny blinking light held carefully in Enzo’s hand, felt like a burning coal in the pit of her stomach.

Her fingers instinctively brushed the familiar pendant, a testament to her Nonna’s memory, now no longer a phantom weight or a tether. A cold wave of shame and terror washed over her. Each motion, each breath she took, had endangered everyone with her. The farm hadn’t been safe, never had been, not after the sniper attack. And now, even this remote airstrip in Maine was compromised because of her.

Maybe she should just go back. The thought stabbed through her mind, unwelcome but persistent. Go back to Charles and the children and let this all end. Let them all go back to their lives, safe, free from the chaos she brought with her.

But surrender meant losing everything she had fought for, the people she was learning to care about, the fragile new life they were trying to build. Instead, she forced her gaze steady on Dog, standing close, tension written deep into his features.

“So, what’s the plan for that?” she asked quietly, her voice tight, nodding toward the tiny blinking light Enzo held.

Enzo nodded, already pulling a small toolkit from his bag. Thorn crouched nearby, scanning the SUVs and their surroundings with sharp eyes. The engines were still off; the only sounds were the quiet hum of distant aircraft and the soft scrape of tools.

“We will need to plant it somewhere that leads Charles’s men away from our path,” Enzo said, voice calm but focused.

Dog turned toward Thorn and Enzo. “You two will take the second SUV for a winding drive west, down to a truck stop. Find a rig headed into Canada and plant the tracker on the bumper. Make it count.”

Enzo gave a brief nod. “We’ll circle back afterward and provide overwatch for Warden’s cabin.”

Margaret swallowed hard, feeling the weight of what was happening. The danger was everywhere, yet at least this step might throw Charles’s men off their trail.

The two men climbed into the second SUV, engines roaring to life. They pulled away smoothly, tires crunching gravel as they faded down the airstrip road.

Jake slid into the driver’s seat of the remaining vehicle, glancing back at Margaret and Dog in the rear seats. The night air was cool, but a tension hummed between them.

Dog settled beside Margaret, lowering his voice. “I know this isn’t easy. You probably think going back to Charles will stop all this, that it might protect the people here.”

Margaret looked away, her fingers twisting nervously. “Maybe it would,” she whispered. “Maybe I can just hand myself over, end it.”

He shook his head gently. “The bounty’s still on our heads. A million each. Charles is desperate, and that makes him dangerous, more so if we show any sign of weakness. Going back won’t make it better. It’ll only give him what he wants.”

She met his eyes. There was honesty there, strength. “So what do we do? Keep running?”