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Everything with the minerals was moving forward, but she’d already sold off the rocks that Sonny had already mined. Judging by what she’d gotten for just that small load, yeah, she was about to never have to worry about anything again.

But she wasn’t talking about flashy cars or multimillion-dollar homes.

No.

She was talking about the preservation of undeveloped land. She was talking about women’s shelters for at-risk mothers like she had been for so long. She was talking about giving back to the world, not trying to take more of it for herself. As if I needed more reasons to love her.

Denali was off at a club sleepover. Runa was in talks with Teddy—who was happy to take her under his wing to help her manage her new financial reality.

And I was off to kill the hitmen.

I slipped the second gun into my waist holster then made my way out the back door.

This was the last thing standing in the way of us closing the door on all the trauma the girls had endured for years.

I drove my bike out to the middle of nowhere, to a small rental house that was in foreclosure, so there was no one around to know what was about to go down.

And that was a trap.

When we’d gotten back to Golden Glades, I tore everything the girls owned apart, looking for a tracker, knowing there had to be one if they were getting found over and over while being off the grid.

And I found it.

Buried deep in the belly of the goddamn capybara stuffed animal.

I pulled it out, sewed the baby back up, then put it in a Faraday cage until I could get my plan set up.

At the foreclosed house, I set the tracker in the mailbox, then made my way outside to hide in the trees across the street.

I hoped to pick them off before they went in, or after they came out of the house. It was easier to wash blood away with a hose than it was to scrub it out of walls or carpets.

Runa’s car sat in the driveway.

It was the same car I’d use to haul their bodies out in the tarp-lined trunk I’d set up the night before.

The gators would be eating good this week.

I was decked out all in black, sweating through my clothes as I waited. And waited. And waited.

It was about an hour and a half later that I saw headlights turning down the street. Then cutting off.

That had to be my guys.

No one cut their headlights on a dark, unfamiliar road at night unless they had ulterior motives.

My pulse skittered as my mind flashed to one of these bastards with a belt around Runa’s neck and pulling tight.

Of both of them ambushing her when she was alone with my daughter on a supposed work call.

Of them ramming their car into hers.

I lifted my arm as the car pulled up and parked a few feet from Runa’s car.

The driver climbed out, glancing around, seeming to look right at me, but not seeing me.

I sucked in a breath, aimed, and squeezed the trigger.

Once.