Page 91 of Fallen Heir
And if Ben was here… Jaxson wasn’t far behind.
Ilooked Bruce in the eye, my voice steady now—low, sure, cutting through the air with conviction that didn’t shake.
“You should run.”
He blinked. "What?"
"You should run," I repeated, my voice low, calm. “Because when they come for me—and theywillcome—they’re not going to stop. Not until you’re dead."
"Sweet, naive Savannah," he said, almost gently. "I know they’ll come, but when they do, we’ll be long gone."
I smiled. Just a flicker. "Wanna bet?"
The smile vanished from his face. For the first time, something flashed behind his eyes.
Fear.
I didn’t even have the chance to breathe before Bruce lunged forward and yanked me against him. The barrel of the gun crashed into my temple with a sickening crack, his arm wrapped tight around my neck like a vice.
My hands flew to his arm, clawing, pulling—fighting to suck in air. But it was no use. I was trapped.
I shouldn’t have said anything.
“Where are they?” he hissed, voice dark and low.
I froze.
He wasn’t talking to me.
His eyes flicked toward the shadows, past the edge of the clearing.
“Kill them. All of them.”
My stomach dropped.
From the corner of my eye, I saw movement—men stepping out from behind the shipping containers, guns raised, aiming in the direction I’d seen Ben.
No.
A scream locked in my throat.What did I do?What had I led them into?
Bruce’s breath was hot against my ear.
“I told you we’d be ready,” he said, this time to me. A smug sneer in his tone, like he’d already won.
CHAPTER 30
Savannah
I didn’t care that Bruce’s arm was cutting off my air, or that the cold steel of the gun bit into my skin with bruising pressure. All I could think about was Ben—about what I’d done by speaking too soon. By drawing their attention before he was ready.
If Ben was here, that meant Jaxson was too. And they were walking into something far worse than they’d anticipated.
I hadn’t seen it at first—how carefully Bruce had staged everything. The traps hidden in plain sight. The false quiet. The silence that had lulled me into thinking they’d made it in time.
Now, the shadows were alive. Men were slipping out from behind the steel storage containers that lined the clearing, guns drawn. Two emerged from a side building, stepping in calculated unison. Another crept out from the broken door of a shipping office. I counted three more flanking wide around the yard, ducking low behind crates and rusted barrels. Their positions weren’t random. They were trained, communicating with signals, tracking movement.
Waiting for the kill order to fall into place.
