Page 125 of Rogue Mission

What if the other team couldn’t reach him?

What if rescue turned into recovery?

The questions drop like stones through the hollow behind my sternum.

I’m shaking and holding myself from running to him when Justice stops. Spence walks up to him from the right, also wearing that warrior’s energy.

They speak too low for me to catch even a syllable. Justice turns to look at the house. His shoulders square, chin lifting as if he sees me.

He’s coming back soon, the call is over.

I’m both relieved and terrified to find out what was said.

“There you are,” says a voice behind me catching me off guard.

I turn, only half paying attention because I’m focused on Justice returning, until I realize it’s Walton.

Not that seeing him should be a problem. It’s the gun.

His arm is extended, the same firearm I learned with outside is now leveled at my chest.

Adrenaline hits me, ice dumping down my spine. My stomach knots, my thighs snap tight as I fight the urge to flee.

What. Is. Happening?

He’s a good guy. But the barrel catches a tight sliver of light, a bright pinpoint at the mouth of the opening.

“Wh-what are you doing?”

Walton’s wrist shifts, casually swaying the gun.

After watching him shoot earlier, I know there is no chance in hell he will miss.

“Getting ready to collect my paycheck.”

The words strip the room of oxygen.

“For, for what?” I stutter.

Glinting smoke-colored eyes crinkle. “What do you think?”

“You’rethe assassin?”

My voice now sounds weirdly hollow, as if part of me has slipped outside that window to reach Justice. To tell him I’m in trouble.

Keep him talking,I remind myself.

Walton nods, that odd gaze never leaving my face. “The one and only. You’re worth a lot of money, by the way. Let’s go.”

The Wraith. The Bone Crusher. He looks so... plain in his threadbare flannel and paint-stained jeans.

“Why do they call you the bone crusher?” I ask with bile squeezing up into my throat, trying to buy time.

His brows go up, almost as if he’s pleased.

“Technically that’s my wood-chipper, but hey, it’s good for scaring the shit out of people. But they’re dead by the time they get to that part.”

Yep. I’m terrified to the very pit of my soul. But I’m also furious.