Page 33 of Lone Wolf

Just like mine is starting to be.

She’s struggling with a holster strap, her fingers less steady than usual. Before I can think better of it, I cross to her side.

“Here,” I say, adjusting the equipment for her. Our fingers brush briefly, and I pull away quickly. This is not the time for whatever complicated thing exists between us.

“Check your comms twice,” I tell her, keeping my voice neutral. “Reception gets spotty sometimes.”

What I don’t say:Be careful. Don’t be reckless. Come back alive.

Sunny nods. And for a moment, something passes between us—maybe an acknowledgment of the truce we’ve established, fragile as it is.

Hadria’s voice cuts through the night, dividing the team between vehicles. I’m assigned to ride with Lyssa in the second SUV, while Sunny goes with Scarlett in the lead vehicle. And I still feel uneasy about it all.

The garage doors roll open to reveal the gloomy predawn city. Rain falls steadily, pattering against the vehicles as we pull out. Through the windshield wipers’ hypnotic rhythm, I track the lead SUV, knowing that Sunny Santiago sits inside, her mind likely racing with whatever agenda she’s concealing.

“You’ve been training her,” Lyssa notes, not looking away from the road. Not a question.

I don’t respond.

“Did you think we wouldn’t notice?”

“Of course not. But she asked me—and I didn’t make her do anything she didn’t want to do.”

“Uh-huh. Well, did you know she’s got a personal stake in this?” Lyssa continues.

“I know,” I say finally.

“And you didn’t rat her out.” Again, not a question.

I stare out at the rain-slick streets. “She would have found a way to come with us regardless. I just wanted to make sure she…”

“Stayed alive?”

“Didn’t get anyone else killed,” I snap.

But Lyssa was closer to the truth than feels comfortable.

Thunder cracks overhead as we approach the industrial district. Through sheets of rain, our target comes into view: a nondescript warehouse, carefully chosen for its anonymity. I run through the plan mentally, anticipating complications, calculating alternatives. But beneath the tactical assessment, more thoughts issue warnings.

Sunny is emotionally compromised. Dangerous.

So are you, whispers another voice.

My earpiece crackles to life and Scarlett says, “Pulling up now.”

Rain slams against the vehicles as we pull into position. Through the downpour, I watch Sunny in the other SUV, her face set with a determination I recognize all too well.

She’s not here for the mission. She’s here for vengeance. And I know better than most how dangerous that can be.

“You want some advice?” Lyssa asks me in a low voice.

I turn and stare at her. I want to say no. But I give a short nod.

“Watch her back, because she’s not going to—and watch your own, too. Because she’s not going to.” She pauses to watch me take that in. “Look, if you say the word, I’ll pull her. Right now.”

It’s the first time Lyssa has ever shown me professional courtesy as though she considers me on the same level. And I think it over. “She deserves her shot,” I say after a moment. “I’ll watch her. Switch me out with Elijah.”

Lyssa nods, and takes to the private comms channel to let Scarlett know about the switch. Then she gets out of the vehicle,and the rest of us pile out, too. Elijah moves over toward Lyssa and I line up with Scarlett.

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