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The weight of the vest is familiar, the taste of adrenaline sharp on my tongue.

Beside me, Kraken checks his weapon for the third time.

We've been paired up for the breach, Runes' idea of forcing us to work together, even though things couldn’t be worse between us right now.

"Rooftop's clear," Oskar reports from his sniper position. "No movement up top."

"Interior lights are on in the northwest corner," Tor adds. "Thermal shows at least fifteen bodies inside."

"You good?" I ask Kraken, not looking at him.

"Peachy," he grunts. "Just thinking about how you knocked up my little girl."

Jesus Christ. Now?

"Not the time, Kraken."

"When is the time?" His voice is low, venomous. "When you're playing daddy to my grandkid? When you're moving her into some house, playing happy family with a baby that?—"

"That what?" I turn to face him. "That I'm going to raise? What's your fucking problem?"

"My problem is you couldn't keep your hands off her. I told every man in this club?—"

"She's not a possession," I cut him off. "She made her choice."

"Some choice. Pregnant and tied to the club forever now."

"She was already tied to the club. She's your daughter."

"Yes, she damn well is," he snaps. "The second I took her in, I promised myself I'd give her a normal life, away from this, this chaos that comes along with it."

"Yeah? How'd that work out?" I gesture toward the warehouse. "Dylan was as far from the club as you could get, and look where that led."

His jaw clenches, but before he can respond, Runes' voice cuts through:

"Positions in sixty seconds."

I push everything else down—Everly, the baby, Kraken's anger.

None of it matters if we don't survive the next hour.

"Ready?" I ask Kraken.

He nods once, sharp. Professional, even if there is some intense personal shit going on.

That's why we're still brothers, even when we want to kill each other.

"We’re ready to go."

We move as one, decades of training taking over.

The guard at the north entrance doesn't even see us coming.

Kraken takes him down silently, knife between the ribs, while I cover our six.

The body drops quietly, and we drag it behind a dumpster.

Blood pools black in the moonlight.