Page 94 of Brutal Savior

One second. Two. An unfamiliar voice pants, “He’s clear. Collar is off. Target is clear. I repeat, target is clear. That device can blow.”

I’m not relieved. Not yet. This could still all go to hell.

“Silence on the line,” Jacob snaps, followed by, “Yes.”

I can’t hear what his sister says. Whatever it is, Jacob responds with a very convincing. “Yes, you fucking bitch. Grandad. Blow up Grandad.”

Even knowing he’s safe, it must have cost Jacob to say it. It must have torn out his heart. Another pause, then I cover my hands with my ears as a loud boom rips the air. Like a Fourth of July firework magnified a million times over.

Holy fucking shit.

She did it. The bitch did it.

They said he was clear, but what if they were wrong? That explosion sounded huge. What if they got caught in it after all?

Jacob shouts down the line. “Fuck me. Is he safe? Confirm he’s safe.”

For a long, long time, there’s nothing. Then a crackly voice says, “Confirmed. No casualties.”

It feels like there should be cheers, but there aren’t. Just a collective outrush of breath and the shaky feeling of adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Good. I’m at her location. I’m going in.”

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Jacob

I have to getmy shit together.

When approaching a hit, time usually seems to slow down. I go into a calm space where I can focus and make the right choices.

Today, with my family and Quinn’s sister at risk, my stomach is roiling, and every noise sounds too loud. I’m working hard to focus my thoughts, but they’re spinning in all directions.

Grandad is safe, but the hospital is still at risk. If I can’t take Kelly out quickly and cleanly, she could still detonate the second bomb. And she’s my sister. A crazy bitch, but my bloody sister. What if I freeze? What if dozens of people die because I don’t have the bollocks to do what needs to be done?

Three Gilda soldiers flank me as we stand in the shadows, just close enough to have eyes on the neat little townhouse. It looks like something an old lady would own—window boxes full of flowers, door covered in faded yellow paint.

Candice speaks into my earpiece.

“She’s in the front living area. This place is an Airbnb, and she’s only been here two weeks. I’m not finding any advanced detection equipment, just cameras surrounding the perimeter, which I’ve looped, and an alarm, which I’ve disabled. I can’t see everything, though. There could be physical booby traps. Locks are the old-fashioned kind.”

“Roger that.”

I consider my options. If she’s relying on the cameras and alarm, she should be easy to surprise from the back. I address my three guards. “She’s in the front room. You two, cover the front entrance. You, the back entrance. I’ll enter from the back. Set off a siren on my signal.”

They nod and follow my lead.

The moon is bright as all fuck, bathing everything in cold light. A bomber's moon, Grandad calls it. An old expression from his army days. Is it supposed to be lucky? It will be for either Kelly or me. Not both of us.

My remaining guard tails me as we work our way around to the back of the house. He’s young but sharp, and he moves almost as quietly as I do. Impressive. A small alley runs along the back of the house, and a rickety wooden fence stands to shoulder height. It’s the sort that’s easy to climb over, a wooden beam along the middle providing a perfect foothold.

I speak to the team in a clear whisper. “Are you in position?”

“Yes, sir.”

I vault over the fence. landing in a dark corner at the furthest point from the door. My blood races, and now, finally, the perfect clarity I’ve been missing kicks in. I take in the simple backyard with its decorative ornaments and small pond, the washing line and the back door I need to enter through.

Keeping to the shadows, I edge forward, scanning the dark for traps. Tripwires, underground pressure switches… I don’tsee anything, but that doesn’t mean they’re not there. Fingers wrapped tightly around the grip, I draw my weapon.

---