Page 124 of Ruthless Regret

“How do we get him to take the bait?” I ask.

“That’s where you come in,” Rook says, turning to me. “You let McFadden know that Zain is being released from the hospital, and wants to give his statement at home. Knight's already installing surveillance equipment while the repair work is being done on the doors and windows.”

My stomach clenches at the thought of stepping back into that house, into that kitchen. The memory of Zain’s blood staining the floor still haunts me, and the idea of returning there, of facing McFadden with that image burned into my mind—it’s almost unbearable.

I’ve been staying in a place just outside of town. Bishop explained it was a safehouse, somewhere people who hire him hide out while he does his job. I haven’t asked what his job is … I’m scared to know the answer.

But I nod, forcing myself to breathe, to focus on what needs to be done. “And what about his deputies? He’s not going to come alone.”

Bishop straightens. “We’ve already identified the ones who are loyal to him. They’ll be called away—an emergency across town, something to keep them distracted long enough for us to do what needs to be done.”

I glance at Zain, searching for any hesitation in his eyes, but all I find is determination.

“How do we know he will actually talk when he gets there?” The risk of what the men are planning feels enormous.

Rook’s gaze sharpens. “He’ll talk because we’ll give him no choice. The case files will be spread out on the table—including the witness statement that Ramsey buried about Louisa arguing with someone the day before she died, the fingerprint with the results showing it belongs to Ramsey.” A smile curls his lips up. “We also have the murder weapon. Marcus’s last gift. He kept it as an insurance policy against McFadden. It has his prints on it.”

Zain shifts beside me, his face grim. “And if he doesn’t react to those?”

Bishop meets his eyes with a cold smile. “Then we move to phase two.”

Rook pulls out his phone, and shows us a photograph. "Knight found Ramsey's burner phone. Text messages, call logs, everything that proves McFadden was in contact with him right before he died."

"He'll deny it," Zain says. "Claim Ramsey was unstable, trying to frame him."

"Which is why we need everything." Bishop meets my eyes. "The witness statement suggests motive. The phone records prove cover-up. The murder weapon proves he was there. One man's word against another is nothing. Evidence is everything."

My heart pounds as I process what they're saying. "You want to trigger him. Make him think his secret's already out."

"People get sloppy when they're desperate," Rook says. "They say things they shouldn't. Reveal things they've kept buried."

"And if he pulls his gun instead of talking?" Zain’s question sends a chill down my spine.

"That's what our surveillance is for." Bishop's smile is sharp. "The second he makes a move, Rook will take him down."

"Two days," Rook says. "That's how long we have to get everything in place."

I look at Zain, at the determination in his eyes despite his weakened state, and I pray we're ready when the time comes.

Because McFadden has had years to perfect his lies. And we might not get another chance at this.

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

ZAIN

The hospital wallsare suffocating me. Every second I spend in this sterile room feels like a lifetime. I’ve been in spaces smaller than this—much smaller. Fourteen years locked in a cell should have made this feel like a luxury. But right now, all I want is to get out.

The beeping of the machines, the soft murmur of nurses in the hallway—it all fades into the background as I stare out the window, watching the endless stretch of sky. The bandage around my side pulls with every breath, a constant reminder of how close I came to not making it. The pain, though, is nothing compared to the weight of what’s coming.

McFadden.

There’s a knock on the door, and Rook steps in without waiting for an answer. He’s got that look on his face—the one that says we’re moving forward, whether I’m ready or not.

“You ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready,” I mutter, already swinging my legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the pull of the stitches.

He tosses a bag on the bed next to me. “Get dressed. Everything is ready at the house. Knight’s got the house wired up. When we get there, Ashley will make the call, tellingMcFadden you’ve left the hospital early, against their advice, and you’re ready to talk to him.”

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