Page 97

I already know. A cold chill slices down my spine.
Micah Rhodes.
I turn, urgency filling every movement as I drop my duffel full of guns. I cup Harper’s face. “Listen to me. You’re getting on that helicopter. Now. You hear me?”
She stares at me, eyes wide and frantic, already shaking her head. “Brody, no?—”
I grip her shoulders. “You have to go.”
Her eyes fill with panic, and she roughly grabs my arms, yanking me with her. “Come with me. Please.”
I keep my voice calm even though I want vengeance. “Harper, please, get in the helicopter. You have to trust me.”
Tears stream down her face, fear bright in her eyes. But finally, with trembling lips, she nods quickly, understanding that arguing now means risking everything. “Please be careful.”
“I promise.” I grip her hand one final time, tugging her quickly to the helicopter and helping her inside. My heart pounds violently as Harper settles into the seat, eyes never leaving mine as I buckle her in swiftly.
“Brody—”
“I’ll come for you,” I say, offering her one last reassuring smile.
Before she can protest again, I slam the helicopter door shut, patting it twice to signal the pilot.
I move to my duffel, pulling out handguns and extra clips, just as Micah’s car skids to a stop behind Easton’s car. Dust settles around, and anger flares in my chest.
Harper desperately presses her hand against the glass, eyes wide with panic, pleading silently for me to join her. She’s screaming at the top of her lungs.
My heart clenches, but I force myself to step away. The helicopter blades spin faster, lifting the craft upward as Harper’s tear-streaked face stares down at me through the window.
Turning, I face Micah’s car head-on. The helicopter rises quickly above the clearing, but I know Harper can see every detail unfolding below.
This is what it means to protect someone you love.
Micah steps out of the car, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, his posture casual. Deadly anger roars inside me, and I glare at him.
I straighten my stance, my voice cutting through the fading noise of the helicopter above. “You really shouldn’t have come here, Rhodes.”
My fingers curl around the familiar weight of the gun. I pull it swiftly, aiming at Micah’s head. I won’t miss—sharpshooters never do. My pulse pounds heavily in my ears as every fiber of my being screams to end this now, to make sure he never gets another chance to hurt another woman or Harper again.
Micah freezes; surprise sweeps across his arrogant features before his expression quickly settles back into a calculating calm. He lifts his chin slightly, a defiant smirk meeting his lips as he challenges me, almost as if he’s silently daring me to take the shot.
A metallic click to my side splits the tense silence from the tree line, and my blood runs cold as I recognize the unmistakable sound of another weapon chambering a round.
Reluctantly, I glance sideways, my heart dropping as Nick steps from the woods, gun pointed directly at me.
“Nick,” I growl, confusion and frustration lacing my voice, “what the fuck are you doing?”
His expression remains cool, eyes locked firmly on mine, though a muscle twitches visibly along his clenched jaw. “Stopping you from making the biggest mistake of your life.”
My jaw tightens painfully. “You don’t understand?—”
“I understand perfectly,” he interrupts, eyes blazing with intensity as he keeps the gun locked on me. “Get in your car, Rhodes. Leave right now,” he yells.
I keep my weapon pointed at Micah.
Micah hesitates, weighing his options as his gaze flicks rapidly between Nick and me.
“Did I fucking stutter?” Nick steps forward, the threat in his voice unmistakably clear.