Page 29

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

Paigelynn

That man killed Dominic Luisi.

The sound of the helicopter blades is deafening, cutting through the roar of the engine and the crash of the waves.

The spotlight sweeps across the boats again, landing on Dominic’s boat as it rocks wildly in the water.

I can’t hear anything over the noise—the yelling, the chaos—but I don’t need to.

Everything is happening so fast.

I duck lower in the boat, gripping the side with one hand while holding the rifle in the other.

My arms ache, my body trembling from exhaustion, but I can’t stop watching.

Sandor stands on Dominic’s boat, still as a statue.

The guards are panicking, scrambling to aim their weapons, clearly torn between shooting Sandor or the helicopter.

Shots ring out from the helicopter, sharp and precise. The first guard goes down, his body crumpling to the deck. The second guard stumbles, trying to take aim, but another shot hits him square in the chest.

He falls backward, landing hard on the deck. It’s over in seconds. Complete annihilation.

All that’s left is the man who shot Dominic, standing alone on the rocking boat, waving his little white flag, his hand on the boat's steering wheel.

I glance at Cam. He’s staring at the scene behind us, his face pale but set. He hasn’t said a word since the man shot Dominic. I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw tightens every time the helicopter’s spotlight moves.

“Cam,” I say, my voice barely audible over the noise. “Do you trust him? That man?”

"Sandor? Yes."

Then he spins the wheel, slows down, and turns back toward the helicopter and Dominic's boat.

The helicopter lowers, the wind from the blades whipping across the water. A woman’s voice crackles through a bullhorn. “Get ready to move,” she says. “We’ll pull you out.”

Cam nods and waves with a thumbs' up. “Understood,” he says, his voice steady. He looks at me, eyes sharp. “Stay close. Don’t hesitate.”

I nod, my chest tight. The boat rocks again as Cam steers closer to Dominic’s, closing the gap between us. The smell of gasoline and salt fills the air, sharp and overwhelming. My hands grip the gun tightly, the metal cold and slick from the spray.

Sandor moves first. He climbs onto the side of Dominic’s boat, his movements calm and deliberate, like he’s done this a hundred times.

He doesn’t look back at the wreckage, at Dominic’s lifeless body on the deck, or the dead guards.

He just steps to the edge, waiting for the helicopter to lower closer.

“Go!” Cam shouts, pushing me forward.

I hesitate for just a second, glancing back at him.

His face is set, his eyes focused, but I can see the strain in his expression.

He’s hurt, tired, but he’s not stopping.

I take a deep breath and grab the edge of Dominic’s boat, pulling myself up by the large ladder.

My arms shake as I climb, the metal cold and wet beneath my hands.

For a moment, my foot slips, but I steady myself, pushing forward.

Sandor reaches down, grabbing my arm and pulling me the rest of the way. I stumble onto the deck, the smell of gasoline stronger here, almost suffocating. The helicopter hovers just above us, the spotlight blinding.

I look back at Cam. He’s climbing onto the boat now, his movements slower, more strained.

I move to the edge of the deck, gripping the railing as the helicopter lowers again.

An older woman with intense eyes leans out, her face grim, hand outstretched.

Sandor grabs the edge of the ladder hanging from the side, pulling himself up with ease.

He’s fast, efficient, not looking back at me or Cam.

“Paigelynn!” the woman shouts, her voice cutting through the noise. “Move!”

I grab the ladder, my hands slipping slightly from the wet metal. How does she know my name?

Of course she does.

My legs shake as I climb, the wind from the blades whipping my hair into my face.

My breath comes in short, sharp gasps, but I don’t stop.

I can’t.

The deck below feels like it’s falling away, the waves crashing harder now, but I focus on the ladder.

One step at a time.

Sandor reaches the helicopter first, pulling himself inside.

He doesn’t look back, his face unreadable.

I glance down as I climb higher, my chest tightening as I see Cam pulling himself up onto the ladder below me.

The deck of Dominic’s boat is empty now, nothing but wreckage, dead bodies, and chaos.

As I reach the top, she grabs my arm, pulling me in. My body collapses onto the floor of the helicopter, my chest heaving as I try to catch my breath. The noise is overwhelming—the blades, the wind, the engine—but all I can focus on is the emptiness below. Dominic’s boat. Our boat.

Everything we’ve left behind.

Cam climbs in behind me, his movements slower, more labored. The woman grabs his arm, pulling him the rest of the way. He falls beside me, his breath ragged, his face pale. For a moment, neither of us speaks.

She doesn’t waste any time. She moves to the edge of the helicopter, her rifle in hand. I watch as she takes aim, her body steady despite the motion of the helicopter.

She doesn’t hesitate. One shot.

That’s all it takes.

The bullet hits the gas tanks on Dominic’s boat, the explosion lighting up the night sky.

The fire spreads fast, the flames consuming everything in seconds.

The smell of smoke mixes with the gasoline, thick and acrid, but I don’t look away.

I watch as the boats burn, as the wreckage sinks into the waves.

It’s over.

Finally, it’s really over.

I sit back against the wall of the helicopter, body trembling. The heat from the explosion fades, replaced by the chill of the wind. I glance at Cam. He’s leaning against the wall beside me, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling with each breath.

“Dominic,” I whisper, my voice barely audible. “He’s dead.”

Cam nods, his eyes still closed. “Yeah,” he says, his voice rough. “He’s gone. But Niall's still alive.”

I don’t know what to feel. Relief? Anger? Sorrow? It all twists inside me, a mix of emotions I can’t untangle. The cabal’s shadow still lingers. The lies, the control, the pain—it’s all still there, etched into both of us.

“We’re free now?” I ask tentatively.

Cam opens his eyes, glancing at me. His expression is tired, worn, but there’s a spark of something there. Hope. “Not yet,” he says. “But we’re closer.”

I nod, gripping the gun tighter, then remember it's out of bullets.

I drop it.

The helicopter rises higher, the burning boats growing smaller below us. The fire reflects on the water, bright and sharp, but it feels far away now.

Like a memory.

Like something we’ve left long in the past.