Ronan grins, sharp and feral, like he’s finally dragged in air after being held under too long. Rowan’s jaw tightens, a small, brutal nod of approval cutting through his restraint. My pulse spikes—hot, approving, dangerous—but I keep my hands where they are. None of us stops her.
“You bitch,” Bryce spits, panting hard. “You think this scares me.”
Berk pulls the knife free with a practiced twist, steps around him, and slams it into his upper arm next. The sound he makes is something pathetic and strangled, a noise a man makes when he realizes pain is going to be his only future.
Blood runs down his sleeve, dripping onto the concrete in slow taps.
“You don’t even know the meaning of scared.” She leans in, her nose almost touching his. “But you’re about to learn.”
He whimpers. Actually whimpers.
I feel something cold and vicious bloom inside me.
“Talk,” I demand.
He clenches his jaw. “Dean… Dean has her. That’s all I know.”
Berk twists the blade in his arm just enough to make him shout again. She doesn’t blink.
“Where,” she asks.
“I don’t know,” he gasps. “I swear. Dean keeps that location to himself. I haven’t seen her. I never hear her name. He only calls herthe package. That’s all. I’m telling the truth.”
Ronan steps closer, voice low and dark. “She can stab you a hundred times before she gets bored. Think carefully.”
Bryce shakes under the weight of it. Sweat drips down his face. His bravado is cracking like rotten wood.
“What is Horizon Logistics?” Berk asks next, voice soft as silk and twice as dangerous.
He swallows hard. “The only shell company off the grid. Payments. Files. Place you boys weren’t supposed to see.”
I take a step forward. “We see everything.”
His eyes flick up to mine, trying to read whether we have anything left to lose. He picked the wrong night for hope. “We noticed what you were doing,” he snaps through gritted teeth. “You morons were sloppy. You started tipping your hand.”
Ronan snorts. “We were working against you for three years. Not just the last few months, you delusional old fuck.”
Bryce drags his tongue across the blood on his lip, eyes twisting with something rotten as they lock onto Berk. “Should’ve made damn sure this little bitch stayed dead. If I’d known you were still breathing…” His smile curdles. “I would’ve taken my fucking time with you.”
The world narrows down to a single red point.
Ronan lunges for him with a roar. Rowan and I barely catch him, holding him back before he pounds Bryce into the floor. Bryce is laughing even while he coughs blood, that same sick amusement he used on us as kids.
Berk moves in front of Ronan, her hand soft against his chest. “Let me.”
He breathes hard but steps back.
She crouches in front of Bryce again, blade tapping lightly against his chin. “Last chance. What else do you know?”
“I told you everything,” he grunts. “I don’t know where Dean is. I only talk to him through a burner. Check my phone. I swear. Everything is there.”
Berk rises slowly, her expression unreadable as she takes his phone. “I can work with this.”
Bryce trembles, breath shuddering. His previous words were all bravado. “Please. Please. I told you everything. Don’t kill me.”
Ronan leans down, voice soft enough to be tender. “You should have been a better father.”
He finally understands.