Page 168 of The Contract

His head drops. “It’s a chance I have to take.”

But before I can respond?—

Headlights.

Blinding. Sharp.

A high-end sports car skids across the gravel, blocking us in with surgical precision.

For fuck’s sake, now what?

The driver’s door flies open.

“Enzo?”

He storms toward us, feral and fast, yanking at the handle like it’ll give. Which is funny because it’s locked.

A gloved hand bangs hard against the glass.

“Goddamnit, Dante! Open the fucking door!” I don’t. “There’s a bomb strapped under your car—C-4. Enough to blow the entire fucking block.”

I roll down the window. “How the hell do you know that?”

“Knox.” He spits the name like poison. “His boss is in on it. You need to get out. Now.”

I stare at him, cold resolve hardening like concrete in my chest.

“No, I don’t.”

Enzo stops in his tracks.

Eyes wide, desperate, searching for a crack in me he can pry open.

“Look, I know that batshit witch mindfucked you when you were a kid. But you don’t actually have to die.”

“Yes, I do.”

He throws his hands to the sky like it’ll help. “Why?”

“Because if I don’t…” I meet his eyes. Unflinching. “We’ll never figure out what happened to our father.”

I let it hang for a second.

Then drive the blade in.

“Roman’s in on it. Special Agent in Charge Vincent Shaw. People we never saw coming.”

It lands like a bullet in a werewolf’s chest.

Me… being right.

And I’m so fucking right.

It’s all tangled across Enzo’s face—rage, panic, pain—like a storm he can’t outrun.

“Does Dillon know?”

I shake my head. “It’s better he doesn’t. Twin brain and all.”

---