Page 98 of Fallen Heir

But I couldn’t.

Not yet.

Everyone was still moving into place. The plan was still unfolding.

When we first circled the edge of the woods surrounding the compound, we counted at least two dozen men posted around the perimeter.

Bruce’s personal army.

Men who thought they were skilled.

Men who thought they were unbreakable.

They weren’t.

Nic had mapped it all—every angle, every blind spot, every thread of coverage inside these woods. She’d run surveillance three steps ahead, her mind playing a game none of these bastards were equipped for.

Ben and I took positions with a direct sightline on Savannah.

I wanted eyes on her at all times. He wanted eyes on me. Neither of us trusted the margin for error.

Each of my guys took their place quietly—trained, precise.

Not like Bruce’s men. We were ghosts long before they ever saw the storm coming. Bruce had no idea we were already surrounding him.

But still, I couldn’t take the shot yet.

One wrong move—one misfire—and Savannah would be the one to pay the price.

So I watched. Heart pounding. Muscles locked. Finger resting on the trigger but not pulling.

I studied every shift of Bruce’s hand. Every tick in his jaw. Every subtle twitch in his trigger finger. Waiting for the moment when the opening would come.

Then, I watched as Savannah’s face shifted—Something different. Calculating. Fearless.

I knew that look.

The same one I’d seen when she was trying to figure out a solution to my PR nightmare. Only this time, it was as if she already had the answers.

She wasplanning.

In one quick motion, Bruce snapped behind her, yanking her body tight against his chest. The gun pressed into her temple, turning her into a human shield. Blocking my shot.

Damn it.

“Ben,” I said into the earpiece, voice low, steady.

“I see it,” he replied instantly, his voice calm like it was any other day. “First shots on me.”

That’s why I trusted him. No panic. No hesitation. Just the job.

We moved as one.

Within seconds, the first body went down—clean, silent.

Then another. Headshots. Every one of them.

Our men moved like knives, cutting through Bruce’s perimeter before they even realized we were inside.