Page 25 of Oliver

River narrowed his eyes. “Where?”

“I ran into him last year in Ukraine. He was with a paramilitary group out of Eastern Europe. Called himself Viktor.”

“Last name?” Gage asked.

“Didn’t give one. Just Viktor. Ran black-market ops. Ex-military, fluent in English, ruthless as hell.”

I clenched my jaw. “Think he’s here?”

“He’shunting,” River said. “And Emery’s unfinished business.”

I stepped outside,needing air.

The sky was black velvet above Carlsbad, the ocean crashing in the distance. I could still feel Emery’s voice in my head—What if they come for someone else next?

I pulled out my phone and texted her.

Stay inside. Keep the doors locked. We’ve got a name. And it’s not over.

She responded almost instantly.

I figured. I'm not running. Just tell me when it’s time to fight.

Damn, I admired her.

I looked up at the stars and made a silent promise.

They won’t touch her again.

Not while I was breathing.

14

Emery

Ifelt it before I heard it.

That ripple of wrongness that crept down your spine when something was just… off.

I was alone in the house—Oliver had left to meet the team. Tag was outside patrolling the perimeter. Everything was supposed to be safe.

But my instincts—sharpened from years in high-stress competition—were screaming at me now.

I stood in the kitchen, water bottle halfway to my lips, frozen in place.

Then came the sound.

A soft creak. Floorboards settling.

Or…

Footsteps?

I put the bottle down slowly and grabbed the knife from the counter.

Not exactly Olympic regulation, but I’d learned a few things from my Dad.

I moved through the hallway quietly, bare feet silent on the hardwood. My heart thudded against my ribs—quick, tight, controlled.

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