Behind Avery, Darian’s breath hitched. “I didn’t want this,” he said hoarsely, his hands still raised, his voice breaking the fragile silence. “The kidnapping. The hostages. This isn’t what the Brotherhood was supposed to be.”
Avery kept her gun trained on him, every muscle locked. “You expect us to believe that?”
His shoulders sagged, rain running in dark lines down his face. “You think I wanted them dragged into this? I told themit was a mistake.” He swallowed hard. “Charlotte shouldn’t have been murdered.”
The name hit like a knife. Avery’s stomach dropped.
“Punished, yes,” Darian went on, voice trembling. “But not murdered. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”
He sounded broken. Or maybe he wanted them to think he was. Avery couldn’t tell. The sincerity in his voice sounded almost real, but “almost” didn’t count when lives were on the line.
Noah stepped closer, gun still steady. “Who’s holding the hostages, Darian?” His tone was clipped, controlled. “Who’s inside that bunker?”
Darian hesitated, glancing toward the slab, then back at them. His mouth opened, the words right there—
Gunfire shattered the clearing.
Avery flinched as rounds chewed through the trees, sparks and splinters exploding into the rain. The sound was deafening, sharp, and close.
“Down!” Jackson barked, grabbing Avery and pulling her behind the trunk of a fallen tree.
Isla dove to the ground near the slab, rolling behind a chunk of broken concrete.
Darian dropped flat, mud splashing up around him. He shouted something, maybe a warning, but his words were lost in the chaos.
The forest erupted with light and sound, the staccato echo of gunfire bouncing between the limestone bluffs.
Avery pressed her cheek to the wet bark, breath ragged, heart hammering.
They weren’t being watched anymore.
They were under attack.
Avery hit the ground hard, mud splattering her face, the cold shock of it barely cutting through the noise. Gunfire torethrough the rain, sharp and deafening, bullets slamming into the trees above her head and shredding bark into a mist of splinters.
She could hear Jackson and Noah beside her, both down low, returning fire in short, controlled bursts. Darian was sprawled a few feet away, face pressed into the mud, hands still over his head.
“Stay down!” Jackson shouted over the gunfire.
Avery shifted, trying to see Isla through the blur of rain and smoke. The other woman was still by the bunker, crouched behind the slab, her gun braced over one knee. Brave or reckless. Probably both.
The rounds didn’t stop. They came in bursts, a rhythm that told Avery exactly what she didn’t want to know. Trained shooters, coordinated.
Through the ringing in her ears, a voice cut through over the comm.
Cal.
“No one’s coming out of the bunker,” he said, his breath quick and uneven. “Repeat, no movement from inside.”
Jackson swore under his breath, reloading fast. “You sure?”
“Positive. Garrett and I managed to jam the door. Heavy chain through the handles and a wedge on the inside seam. They’re sealed in.”
A flicker of hope cut through Avery’s fear.
“Good,” Noah said, his tone grim but steady. “Keep them locked down.”
“Copy that. There’s only one way in and out, and they don’t have it.”