Page 112 of Lucky Strike

“We'll take them out first. Quietly.” Donovan pulls at his beard, thinking. “We don't know how many people are inside or what kind of security they have, so it’s critical that we catch them by surprise.”

“Donovan, you and your team take the east side of the property." I point to the map on my phone. "Alex, Finn, and Malachi, you take the west. Tristan and I will take out the guys in front and hit the house head on.”

“East and west teams should spread out so that we meet at the rear of the house,” Donovan adds, tracing his finger along my screen. “Covering all exits.”

“Perfect. Text to communicate, use the walkie-talkie app if absolutely necessary.” I pause, pointing to my smartwatch. “Otherwise, we’ll meet back here.” I look over at Terry. “I need you to stay here as a lookout in case anyone else shows up. Be ready to drive when we come back.”

Donovan assigns one of his men to stay back with Terry. I look around the group, making eye contact with each person here. I have faith with every one of them. “Let’s do this.”

We enter the woods in silence, moving quickly behind Alex and Malachi. Except for occasional pockets of visibility, the fog is thick as soup. It’s disorienting, but it lends cover we never would’ve had otherwise. I kiss the cross around my neck, confident that our path is illuminated by divine grace. We split up as we approach the edge of the property, the house looming just ahead. Like Alex said, the house is massive. A shed sits off to the side. It’s possible Liam and Bria are being kept there, but it makes more sense to clear the house first. I tug at my body armor, itching to get this over with.Please, please let them be here. Please let them be okay. The guards stationed at the entrances are still chatting when the muffledpop pop popof my bullets takes them down.

The shots weren’t deafening, but they were far from silent, and we don’t have a second to spare. I dart from the cover of the woods into the open, Tristan a step behind as we rush the front door. My watch vibrates with a message from Finn.

Back door already open. Moving in.

Taking just a second to listen, I give the door knob a jiggle before shooting it open. We let ourselves in, surveying the empty foyer. “Upstairs first,” I whisper. We jog up the staircase, methodically going room by room down the hallway. Empty. We’re on our way back down when shots ring out from the first floor, followed by yelling and a loud crash. Heart in my throat, I race after Tristan, following the noise.

“I got Liam!” Donovan’s voice crackles triumphantly over the walkie-talkie as another shot reverberates throughout the first floor. “I’ll get him outta here.”

My knees buckle in relief. Wiping the wetness from my eyes, I continue toward the kitchen and round the corner just as a man shoots, hitting my brother. Tristan grunts, jerking backward as he absorbs the impact. He falls to the floor. “Fuck!”

There’s someone else on the floor, not moving. Black sweater, blue jeans.Bria.

My heart stops. My muscles tighten, and my peripheral visionnarrows, shutting out everything that isn’t this place at this precise moment. I’m dimly aware of the two other bodies, faceless men in masks. Alex and Malachi burst through the back door behind Finn, whose gun is trained on the man that just shot Tristan.

“Don’t fuckin’ shoot, Lucky!” The man looks at me, holding up his free hand. His voice is undeniably familiar, the most disturbing thing of all. “No one else needs to die here!”

The adrenaline that has been sustaining me for the past couple of hours peaks with rage. I take one look at Tristan, panting shallowly as his blood pools on the wood floor, and shoot the masked man. He falls with a guttural cry, the room exploding with sound as his gun goes off again and hits the frame of the doorway I just came through.

Several of Donovan’s men rush through the back door. Striding across the kitchen, I squat down and rip the mask from the man’s face. Steven Murphy stares back at me. Bile swirls in my stomach. I can’t look away from his watery, ice-blue eyes. “What did you do?” I grit out, trembling. “What did you do, Steven?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go down like this, I swear.”

“They don’t look too good, Lucky. We gotta get them out of here,” Finn yells. I snap my head up to see him kneeling beside Bria and Tristan, concern and fear clouding his features. He touches my girl, shaking his head slowly. “She won’t wake up.”

My throat closes. Tears blur my eyes as I stand, focusing my gun on the traitor at my feet.

His eyes widen. “You can’t kill me,” he whispers. “You can’t.”

I pull the trigger twice, shattering his kneecaps. His face contorts as he screams, anguished and begging, delirious with pain. “You took my kid, Steven,” I scream right back, a razor’s edge from losing control. “And you took my girl. What did you think was going to happen?”

And then I take his life.

33.Bria

Now

I’m at the bottom of the pool. It’s peaceful here, soundless, and I’d love to just stay here. But then there’s a ripple. A shift. I float to the surface, emerging into muffled voices and intermittent beeps.

My head hurts. A lot. Someone is holding my hand. I feel constricted, like it’s hard to get a good breath. My eyes venture open, then close.It’s so bright. When I open them again, there’s sunlight glowing through the pale yellow curtains of a window. I look around, realizing I’m in a hospital room. My mother is the one holding my hand. Her eyes are closed, but her mouth is moving. She’s praying.

A woman—a doctor—is near the door, speaking to a nurse and a tall man with dark hair and dark clothing and dark smudges under his eyes.Lucky.I examine his face which, even bruised and marred with scratches, is beautiful. He’s angry. No, he’s sad. His eyes widen when he sees that I’m watching him.

“Bria,” he chokes out, rushing to me.

My mother’s hand tightens on mine, and she repeats my name, and they’re both crying. The doctor bustles over, shining lights in my eyes, checking my pulse and my heart and the green and black screens scream and it’s so loud and so bright. My head really, really hurts. My chesthurts. My wrist hurts. Everything hurts. I heave, violently, and the nurse places a small basin in front of me so I can vomit.

I don’t loseconsciousness again, not the way I did before, but I do fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I wake up again, only my mother is there. She smiles, her eyes red like she’s been crying.

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