Page 173 of Reverie

But I’ve been so focused on how I’m living on borrowed time that I haven’t dared to dream of a life where I live it to the fullest.

“I don’t know if you’ve taken a look lately, but tomorrow is especially not promised for any of us,” I say. “You know, seeing as The Legion is hellbent on annihilating me and my family.”

Misha gives a slow, thoughtful nod. “I do see your point, Hunter, and still, who is to say we won’t prevail?”

“Statistics?” I throw out.

Misha laughs and it’s the first time I’ve heard him give a true, deep laugh.

“Don’t be so quick to give up. Life and your luck will always surprise you,” he says.

I flick my eyes over to the smaller screen, expecting to see the dot indicating Winter’s location.

Except it’s not where it’s supposed to be—on the main street in Forte-de-France.

It moves quickly in the wrong direction.

“Gotta run,” I tell Misha, distracted.

But when the alert buzzes on my phone, indicating that Patrick has sent up the distress signal, I run from the table.

I’m not even sure I hung up on Misha.

I bellow for Keegan, the remaining guard from Misha’s team as I race through the house, but since he got the same signal I did, he’s already got the helicopter ready to take off.

I blink and I’m in the pilot’s seat.

“I got a message. Winter is unharmed, but there are two civilian bodies to deal with and Walker is down. Patrick has Winter covered.”

Fuck. Fuck!

Winter may be unharmed physically, but I know the sight of more death is going to impact her.

All she wants is peace.

I nod, lifting the skids on the helicopter so we’re airborne in minutes. I think through where to land. I turn off the helicopter’s transponder and we stay under the radar, hovering only a hundred feet in the air, so that we’re not caught by air traffic control.

Still, I push the Bell 407 to its limits.

“Aim for Les Trois-Îlets,” Keegan says, tapping on his tablet. He jolts after a second, pulling out his phone. He stares at it, frowning, for several beats.

“Who is it?” I ask. He turns the phone to show me it’s a call from his partner.

“Well, fucking answer it! Patch it through the system,” I command into the headset microphone.

Keegan connects the phone.

“Patrick,” he says, his voice a snap.

“Not Patrick,” a voice I want to strangle says over the line. “Although you should be ecstatic that it’s me you’re talking to and not someone else.”

“Marcus Law,” I say, and his name is a curse. “If you hurt a hair on my wife’s head, there won’t be a place in Hell that you can hide from me.”

“Yeah, yeah. Save all the alpha bullshit. I’ve got your man and your girl. Meet in La Savane Parc in thirty to get them.”

Marcus hangs up the line. Wait, he’s just…handing them over to us?

My neck muscles tense as I prepare myself for a confrontation.