I cut him off, my voice a growl. “We need to find Sloane now. What’s Elias got?”
Noah’s jaw tightened, his eyes dark. “They played us. Department 77 set the perfect trap—Elias is kicking himself for missing it. He’s got nothing on Marshall or their whereabouts, not yet.”
I shook my head, water dripping from my hair, and started toward the waiting SUVs.
“I’m going to the Carrington estate. Sylvia knows something—she has to.”
Noah grabbed my arm, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere like this. Rest, regroup, then we hit them when Elias has a lead.”
I opened my mouth to argue, ready to shove past him, when a caravan of Dominion Defense vehicles roared up, Ryker at the lead, his face grim.
I froze, my eyes catching a familiar figure stepping out of the lead SUV—Quentin, the Carringtons’ bodyguard, his face set, his steps purposeful as he walked straight to me. I started to speak, confusion swirling, but he raised a hand, cutting me off.
“I know where they’ve taken Sloane,” he said, his voice steady, his eyes burning with a resolve that silenced my questions. “I can take you there, but it’s just us two, and we go now.”
Marcus stepped forward, his voice sharp.
“We’re all going—nobody takes our girl without a fight.”
Quentin shook his head, his gaze unwavering. “No. It’s too risky. They’ll see your army coming. Only Charlie and me, or we lose her.”
I didn’t hesitate, the look in Quentin’s eyes a mirror to my own desperation, and I nodded.
“Let’s go.”
We piled into Quentin’s unmarked SUV, the engine roaring as he peeled out, leaving my brothers shouting behind us. I gripped the door handle, my body aching but my mind clear, every second ticking like a bomb.
“Where is she?” I asked, my voice rough, water still dripping from my clothes.
Quentin’s hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw set.
“A safehouse on the outskirts, an old plantation Department 77’s been using for years. I’ve got contacts—ex-Agency, like me—who tipped me off.”
I stared at him, pieces clicking.
“You knew they’d take her?”
He shook his head, his voice low. “Not for sure, but I’ve been watching Marshall, tracking his moves since the country club. My old friends helped with the rest.”
The road blurred past, Charleston’s marshes giving way to dense woods, the SUV’s tires humming as we sped toward the unknown. My mind raced, replaying Sloane’s face, her tears at the park, her fire when she’d vowed to trap Marshall.
I’d failed her, let her slip through my fingers, and the weight of it crushed me, but Quentin’s certainty was a lifeline.
“Why just us?” I asked, my voice steady despite the chaos inside.
He didn’t answer at first, handing me a pistol from underneath his seat along with some extra magazines. Then he looked at me, his eyes blazing fire.
“Because they made it personal.”
That’s all he had to say. We were in this together. And may God have mercy on the souls of anyone who got in our way.
31
SLOANE
The plantation house was quiet. Too quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels staged. Like a horror movie set right before the first scream.