Six weeks on the run. Six damn weeks rotting in a cabin that should've collapsed years ago, buried in the middle of nowhere with a woman too stupid to be trusted with anything that mattered. Every morning I wake up, I'm reminded of the same thing—the same mistake.
She lost the drive.
The one thing that mattered. The only thing.
All Angelica had to do was wear the necklace and never take it off. That was it. No thinking required. No effort. A child could've handled it. But she took it off to shower, and somehow—somehow—it disappeared. The thing is waterproof. Designed that way. Millions of dollars sitting on a flash drive no bigger than my thumbnail, and she managed to lose it.
Or maybe she didn't.
Maybe she hid it.
My jaw tightens at the thought. It wouldn't be the first time she tried something stupid, thinking she could outplay me. If she did… I'd make sure she regretted it, slowly. At least I know one thing, they don't have it.
My contact's been feeding me updates. The house is burned, crawling with cops, locked down as a crime scene. And the girl? Word was she didn't make it.
Angelica's kid was dead.
Good.
One less loose end.
I never liked the little brat anyway. Too quiet. Too observant. Kids like that grow up and start talking. She had her uses when she was younger—easy to move product on, small enough to hide things where no one would check. Later, she became leverage. Something to trade, something to threaten. Something to break when I needed to remind Angelica who was in control.
But beyond that? She was dead weight. That's why I left her there. If the wolves got her, then fine. Problem solved or so I thought.
I glance over at Angelica now. She's sprawled across the mattress beside me, dead asleep like none of this matters. Like we're not being hunted. This cabin used to belong to her grandfather—middle of nowhere, no neighbors, no traffic. Just trees, dirt, and the sound of her breathing.
It's starting to piss me off. I shove her shoulder hard enough to snap her awake. She jerks, eyes wide and unfocused, looking around like she forgot where she was.
"What?" she mumbles.
I don't bother softening my tone. "Do you think your kid took the drive?"
That wakes her up fast. Her face drains of color, exactly the reaction I wanted.
"I...I don't know," she stammers. "Maybe? But if she did… and if what you said is true…" She swallows hard. "…then whoever killed her has it now."
I grind my teeth.
"No."
She blinks at me, confused.
"My contact says they don't have it."
Angelica drags a hand down her face, groaning like this is all just an inconvenience. "Then what do you want me to do, Pipe? We had half a million when we ran. We're still alive. Maybe we should just disappear somewhere."
A laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, short, sharp, and humorless.
"You don't disappear from people like him."
That shuts her up which is good. Maybe she's finally starting to understand the situation we're in. We've still got cash, sure, but not enough to outrun what's coming. Creep did what he could—scrubbed the cabin, wiped any trace of us off the grid—but the people hunting me aren't amateurs. They've got money. Real money. Power. Connections that don't show up on any screen.
And I made one mistake. I took something that belongs to them. You don't make men like that wait. You don't lose their money. And you definitely don't survive if they think you're lying. The burner phone on the table lights up with a sharp ding, cutting through the silence.
Unknown.
I grab it immediately.
The first message is short.
She is alive.
Everything in me goes still.
Another message follows.
The girl survived. She is with Bear O'Hare at the Dead Line compound.
For a second, my brain doesn't process it. Then it does, and something dark and satisfied curls in my chest as a slow smile spreads across my face.
Alive. The little bitch is alive. Good. That means the drive might be too. My fingers move quickly over the screen, asking the only question that matters. There's a pause before the reply comes, slower this time, more careful.
Not sure. She knows me. I need to move carefully. Of course she does. Marla's been circling that kid for years, watching, waiting for the right moment. If anyone can get close to her without raising alarms, it's her.
Good.
That's exactly why she's still useful. I lean back against the mattress, staring up at the cracked ceiling, letting the tension bleed out of my shoulders for the first time in weeks. Relief settles in slow and dangerous. Because if Sunny's alive, then the game isn't over.
Not even close. And if that girl has what I'm looking for? I'll tear through Bear O'Hare's entire club to get it back. Every last one of them.
And the girl?
She'll just be the reward waiting at the end.