Cade POV
I didn't make it to my truck.
I'd taken three long strides across the gravel when a hand locked around my arm like a steel band. I spun, ready to shove whoever it was into the dirt.
Riley stood her ground, her fingers digging into my bicep. She wasn't as strong as me, but her grip was fierce, her stance solid. "Stop. Think for one second."
"Get off me," I snarled, trying to yank my arm free. The image of the rope snapping against Tessa's legs played on a loop in my head. It was a drumbeat in my blood: find them, hurt them, end them.
"No." Her eyes were blazing, not with fear, but with a furious intelligence. "You walk into town right now, all rage and no plan, and what happens? You pick a fight. Maybe you take down one or two of them in public. Then the sheriff, who is on their payroll, arrests you. You go to prison for assault. Or murder. And then what happens to Tessa?"
"They'll be dead. That's what happens to Tessa. She'll be safe."
"Will she?" Riley shot back, her voice low and urgent. She jerked her head toward the house. "You saw eight men in that video. Did you see all their faces? Do you know every cousin, every hired hand, every dirty cop who's loyal to them? You kill Marcus, you become the number one target for everyone left. They'll come for her the second you're in handcuffs. They'll finish what they started."
Her words were ice water thrown on the fire in my gut. I stopped pulling against her grip. The roaring in my ears quieted just enough for logic to crack through.
She saw the shift. She let go of my arm but didn't step back. "You're a soldier. You know better than anyone: you never charge into a hostile zone without intel, without a plan, without an exit strategy. This is a hostile zone, Cade. Your sister's home is the battlefield."
I looked past her, at the quiet farmhouse. Tessa was in there, broken. My niece or nephew was in there, unborn and already in danger. The urge to act, to smash something, was a physical ache.
"So what's the plan?" I growled. "We call the police? You saw the sheriff in the video! He was the one drinking the beer!"
"I know," Riley said. Her jaw was tight. "I have files on him too. Calling the law is not the plan."
"Then what is? Watching more videos?"
"The plan," she said, stepping closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, "is justice. The kind that sticks. The kind where those eight men disappear, and no one ever finds a body to cry over. The kind where the case goes so cold it freezes, and Tessa lives the rest of her life without looking over her shoulder."
I stared at her. She said it so calmly. Making people disappear. It wasn't the talk of a PI. It was the talk of a spook, an assassin.
"Who are you really?" I asked.
"Someone who's seen what happens when the system fails," she said, her eyes shadowed. "I told you, Tessa hired me to get evidence. But I don't just gather evidence, Cade. I specialize in cases the law can't touch. Cases where the bad guys have badges or money or both. I build plans. Endgame plans."
"You kill people."
"I stop monsters," she corrected, her gaze not wavering. "And I'm offering to help you stop yours."
The front door creaked open. Tessa stood there, the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, her face tear-streaked and desperate. "Please," she whispered, her voice carrying across the yard. "Please, Cade. Don't go. If you go to prison… I can't do this alone."
That broke me. The last of the fight drained out of me, leaving me empty and cold. My little sister was begging me not to protect her. Because my way would get me taken from her.
I turned back to Riley. "How?"
"Give me 72 hours," she said immediately. "The Colters are having their big Independence Day barbecue at Marcus's compound in three days. All of them. Every brother, every son, every enforcer. They'll all be in one place, celebrating. We use that time to plan. We use that night to end it."
Three days. It felt like a lifetime. The rage inside me screamed that they didn't deserve three more minutes of breath.
"And what do we do for 72 hours?" I asked, my voice hollow.
"We work," Riley said. "We learn everything about them. Schedules, habits, weaknesses. We prepare. And we keep Tessa safe. Right now, they think she's a scared woman alone on this farm. They can't know you're here. They can't know about me. Our only advantage is surprise."
It made tactical sense. Every part of my training agreed with her. But my heart, the part that was just a brother, rejected it. Waiting felt like failing.
"Cade," Tessa pleaded from the porch.
I closed my eyes. When I opened them, I looked at Riley. "If we do this your way… it has to be clean. No trace back to Tessa. Ever."
"That's the only way I work," she nodded.
"And you're sure? In 72 hours, you can have a plan to take out eight armed men on their own turf?"
A sharp, cold smile touched her lips. It didn't reach her eyes. "I had a plan to take them out before you ever got here, Cade. I was just waiting for the right moment. You're not the only one who wants them gone. Now I have a Delta Force operator for the heavy lifting. Makes the plan even better."
That shocked me silent for a second. She'd been planning this already. This wasn't a reaction; it was a mission she was already running.
"Why?" I asked. "Why do you want them gone?"
Her cold smile vanished. Something raw and painful flashed in her eyes, gone so fast I might have imagined it. "Let's just say I have a personal understanding of what happens when powerful men face zero consequences. My reasons are my own. Our goals are the same. That's all you need to know."
I didn't trust her. Not at all. But I trusted her hatred for the Colters. And right now, that was more useful than friendship.
"72 hours," I finally said, the words tasting like ash.
"The clock starts now," Riley said, all business again. "First, we secure the house. Then, you and I talk. I'll show you everything I have."
We went inside. For the next hour, we moved in a grim routine. I checked every window and door, assessing locks and sightlines. Riley walked the property's tree line, noting approaches. We didn't speak much. Tessa followed me like a ghost, flinching at every creak of the old house.
Finally, we gathered at the kitchen table. Riley opened her laptop again, but not to the video. She pulled up files photos, documents, maps.
"This is Marcus Colter," she said, pointing to a driver's license photo of the cruel-faced man from the video. "Head of the family. He's not just a bully. He's smart. He runs a few legit businesses in town as cover, but his money comes from intimidation, stolen property, and bribes."
She clicked to another picture. A man with a red beard. "Harlan. The one with the rope. He's the primary enforcer. He likes hurting people." She said it so matter-of-factly it made my skin crawl.
One by one, she went through the other six brothers. Dale, who handled their dirty money. Boyd, who leaned on local businesses for "protection" fees. The twins, Jeb and Jed, who were fixers they made problems go away, from vandalism to witnesses. Silas, the youngest brother at 45, who was their link to a motorcycle gang for extra muscle. And Ellis, the oldest after Marcus, who managed their relationships with corrupt county officials.
"And Ian?" I asked, my voice tight.
Riley's expression softened slightly. "Ian is a coward. My assessment is he's been bullied by his father and uncles his whole life. He married Tessa because Marcus told him to, to get control of this land. He's not an active threat, but his silence makes him guilty. He won't help us, but I doubt he'll stand in our way."
"He stood there," I seethed. "He watched."
"I know," Riley said quietly. "And that's a different kind of crime."
She pulled up a map of the county, zooming in on a large property marked with a red dot. "This is the Colter compound. Fenced, with cameras at the gates. They have dogs. Marcus lives in the main house. The brothers have trailers and cabins scattered around the property. On the Fourth, they'll all be here, at the main house, drinking, setting off fireworks. It's the only time they're all guaranteed to be in one place, and their security will be relaxed."
I studied the map, my soldier's mind clicking into gear. "We'd need to approach through the back woods here. The tree line comes close to the property. Take out the cameras here and here first. Neutralize the dogs quietly."
Riley was watching me, a glint of respect in her eyes. "See? We're already planning. We have three days to scout it, to finalize the route, the timing, the methods."
"Methods?" Tessa asked from the doorway, her arms wrapped around herself.
Riley and I exchanged a look. "You don't need the details, Tessa," I said gently. "You just need to know that after the Fourth of July, you will never see them again."
A loud, sudden knocking at the front door made all three of us jump.
Tessa let out a small cry. Riley slammed her laptop shut in one smooth motion.
The knocking came again. Hard, impatient. Bang. Bang. Bang.
My body went still. I held up a hand for silence and moved to the side window, peering through the curtain.
A familiar pickup truck was in the driveway. And standing on the porch, his face pressed close to the door glass trying to see in, was the red-bearded man from the video.
Harlan.
His voice boomed through the door. "Tessa! Open up! Your father-in-law wants a word with you about those property papers. We know you're in there!"
My eyes met Riley's across the room. Hers were wide, alert. This was too soon. The plan was just a conversation. We weren't ready.
Harlan pounded on the door again, making the whole frame shake.
"I said open up, girl! Or I'll kick this door in!"
The 72-hour clock had just run out. The enemy was at the door.