Rowan nods. “Beyond repair.”
I turn to Berk. She’s smiling softly, a smile she saves for death. The kind that glows.
“Looks like you can torch this place too,” I tell her.
Her eyes catch the dim lights and blaze. A wicked spark ignites in her expression. “About damn time,” she says.
She sets the charges and lights the accelerant while we drag equipment and anything useful out with us. Flames lick thewalls as we exit, slow at first, then hungry, roaring, devouring everything Bryce ever touched.
We walk away side by side, four shadows moving toward the night, the warehouse exploding into an inferno behind us. The reflection of fire dances in Berk’s eyes until the smoke blocks it out.
One more monster down.
One to go.
Chapter Thirteen
Berkley
By the time we zigzag the city enough times to shake off any potential tail, ditch the torture-van, and switch into a new one—another dented, rust-eaten tin that smells faintly of mold and old cigarettes—the sky is paling. Dawn creeps across the horizon like someone dragging their fingers through wet paint. The air tastes tiring. The world feels too quiet for what we’ve just done.
My first instinct is to bolt straight for the war room, rip Bryce’s phone open, and start tearing through everything he’s ever touched. I can practically feel the data pulsing under my palms already. Answers. Leads. Breadcrumbs to Kimber. Every second we waste feels like a match held to my skin.
But I don’t make it three steps inside the house before I feel them behind me. Three walls of heat and muscle. Three sets of eyes pinning me in place.
Rowan leans a shoulder against the wall, arms crossed, jaw tight enough to crack teeth. Emerson looks like he’s trying to decide whether he should pick me up and physically haul me to bed. Ronan… Ronan is the worst. He watches me like a wolf deciding whether he needs to bite the back of my neck to make me stay put.
Before any of them unleash the lecture I can see building, I lift my hand.
“I’m not going to fight you,” I say, though exhaustion crawls beneath my skin and my brain is still buzzing like a live wire. “Just let me set up an auto dump from his phone first.”
Their expressions shift—three men trying not to explode. I push on.
“If Dean attempts to contact Bryce, or if anything important hits the device, we won’t miss it. I’ll give you four hours of sleep. Four. Then I’m getting back up and diving in.”
A low rumble echoes between them. The sound is part frustration, part fear, part protective instinct they don’t know how to switch off.
Rowan’s brows knit, the possessiveness in his eyes flaring before he reins it in. Emerson drags a hand through his hair, exhaling hard like he’s wrestling his own instincts. Ronan’s jaw flexes, and I know he’s imagining tying me to the damn bed if I evenlooklike I might push my limit again.
They hate this. Every part of it.
But they also know me.
They know I’m past the point of “resting for my own good.” They know sleep feels like surrender when Kimber’s life ticks down one heartbeat at a time.
Ronan moves first, shoulders dropping even though his eyes still burn. “Four hours,” he says quietly. “Not three hours and fifty-nine minutes.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Deal.”
Emerson steps closer, brushing his knuckles along my arm in a gesture that is half affection, half grounding. “We’re not trying to cage you, baby. Just trying to keep you breathing.”
Rowan nods once, slowly, like he’s stamping the agreement into place. “We’ll take your four hours. Then we hunt.”
A breath leaves me I didn’t know I was holding.
They step aside, letting me into the war room, letting me do what I need to do. Not because they approve. Not because it’s safe. But because they understand the fire inside me is bigger than their fear.
And because deep down, all four of us know one thing.