Page 107 of Made for Reign

“Hunt’s never steered us wrong before.” Marcus zooms in on the map. “Signal’s coming from a lake house about twenty minutes north. Remote area, private access road, minimal neighbors.”

“Perfect place to hold someone without interruption.”

The implications make my jaw clench so hard my teeth ache. If Vega hurt her, if he so much as touched a single hair on her head...

“Hunt says they’ve got her contained but unharmed,” Marcus adds, reading the darkening of my expression. “For now, at least. Vega’s on his way there personally.”

That gives us a window. A small one, but enough. Vega wouldn’t keep his distance if he planned immediate harm. He’d want to be there, to watch, to take pleasure in breaking what he considers his property.

“Let’s move.” I’m already striding toward my truck, calculating angles, approaches, contingencies. “I want eyes on that house in fifteen minutes.”

Ben falls in step beside me. “What’s the play?”

“We go in, we get her out.” The simplicity of the objective centers me, narrows my focus to a laser point. “Anyone who gets in our way doesn’t walk away.”

The tailgate of my F-350 unlocks with a beep from the key fob. Inside, beneath a false floor, lies my insurance policy against exactly this kind of situation. A weapons cache that would make most military units envious. Tactical vests. Extra magazines. Comms equipment.

I pull out my vest first, strapping it on with practiced efficiency, then select a modified AR-15 with a suppressor. Close-quarters combat in a confined space with a hostage present. No room for error.

Next to me, Marcus arms himself with similar precision. He checks each weapon, each magazine, each piece of tacticalgear with the methodical thoroughness that’s kept us both alive through situations most men wouldn’t survive.

“Hunt says four men inside with Audrey,” he reports, touching his earpiece. “Two more patrolling the perimeter. Standard private security types, not specialized combat training.”

Six men. Manageable. Especially with the element of surprise on our side. I slide extra magazines into the pouches on my vest, adrenaline already beginning to sharpen my senses, slow my perception of time.

A click from my left draws my attention. Ben stands there, checking the chamber of a Sig Sauer pistol. His face is set in the same concentration I’ve seen him wear before fights—focused, determined, ready.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, though I already know the answer.

“Coming with you.” He meets my stare without flinching. “She’s family now, remember?”

“This isn’t a fight in the ring,” I warn him. “These men won’t follow rules. There’s no referee. And they’ll shoot to kill.”

Ben chambers a round, his movements smooth and confident.

“Good thing Dad made sure we both knew how to handle ourselves long before I ever stepped into a ring.”

I’d forgotten that—how our father had drilled us in marksmanship from the time we could hold a rifle steady. How he’d prepared us for a world he saw as fundamentally hostile, filled with threats to be neutralized rather than avoided. The training I’d refined in the military, Ben had continued in his own way, through the discipline of combat sports.

“Your call.” I toss him a tactical vest. “But you follow my lead. No heroics. No improv. We go in together, we come out together. With Audrey.”

“Understood.” He straps on the vest with surprising efficiency. “What’s the plan?”

Marcus spreads a satellite image of the lake house across the hood of my truck, illuminated by the dome light I’ve switched on.

“Two-story structure, main entrance here, rear exit leading to a dock here.” He traces the routes with his finger. “Woods provide cover to approach from the north side. Hunt says they’re keeping her on the second floor, master bedroom on the east side.”

“Entry points?” I ask, studying the layout.

“French doors on the lower level, standard windows on the second. Security system likely, but nothing military grade. These private lake houses are designed to keep out casual thieves, not tactical teams.”

I nod, strategy forming.

“We split up. Marcus takes the ground floor, creates a diversion. Ben and I go in through the second floor, extract Audrey. Meet back at the vehicles. Clean, fast, no lingering.”

“And if Vega arrives during extraction?” Marcus asks the question we’re all thinking.

A cold smile spreads across my face. “Then I get to settle two accounts at once.”

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