Page 22 of What Remains

She lowers the hood of her red rain jacket and continues her slow approach. “I don’t understand what she’s doing here.”

“Neither do I,” I seethe. “But I couldn’t help her.” I press a hand over my heart as it tries to escape my chest. I can’t calm my mind, pulse, or body. The bourbon stopped numbing me the second I set eyes on Gwen. A burst of adrenaline is now hissing through my veins.

“You did the right thing. We have to think our way through this.”

“Think?” I bark out a dark laugh. “No.” I close the space between us in two quick strides. “Only kill. We kill our way through this.” I fling my hat to the floor and rake my hands through my hair.

“We can’t exactly burn the place down to get to her.”

“The idea of setting something on fire did cross my mind.” Like Jezebel and her death squad. That’d be a good start. “You understand what that woman will do to her, right?”

“She didn’t take her to the cabin.”

“But that doesn’t mean she won’t⁠—”

“She’s in building B.” She folds her arms over her chest, breathing normally compared to my out-of-control everything. “In an interrogation room. The only one with Wi-Fi. Room nineteen. I assume Jezebel needs something cyber-related from her.”

I shut my eyes for a second, trying to get a grip to do what Zoey suggested. Think. Because I’m truly operating in “kill first and ask questions later” mode. “How, dammit? How did they get her? And what are the chances she’s brought here? To where we are?”

Maybe if I hadn’t walked away from Gwen last month, she wouldn’t have been taken?

My eyes flash open at the memory of Wyatt’s trident tracker charm. “Her bracelet. She never takes it off. Wyatt and Falcon have to be en route here now.”

“Jezebel is thorough. She’d never let Gwen come to this island wearing jewelry. She’s probably in that jumpsuit because she was stripped of everything.”

Stripped.

My stomach knots. I’m going to be sick. If those fuckers put their hands on her . . .

“Jezebel wouldn’t let her wear anything that could double as a tracker. She wouldn’t take the chance.” She opens her palms to the hangar like a reminder. “She doesn’t even allow surveillance cameras here. Nothing that can be hacked or tracked. You know that.” She lifts her jacket to show the old Motorola radio attached to her hip. “Hell, only a few of us are even allowed to carry these.”

I force my jaw to unclench and scan the hangar again, ensuring we’re still alone. “We have to go to her. Now.”

She lifts her chin toward my bench. “You find an M4 hiding in that toolbox? Because there are currently twenty-three armed men, plus Jezebel, on-site. And I clocked eight of them between room nineteen and the exit.” She pauses to let that news sink in.

Eight or eighty, doesn’t matter. I’ll be going after her no matter what.

“Jezebel says I’m finally going to meet the boss. She wants me to come with you. She moved up the timeline. We fly out in two hours.”

I scoff. “If you think for one damn minute I’m going to wait until the flight⁠—”

“I’ve already run the odds. Almost every path leads to⁠—”

“Hell?” I grunt.

“Our demise.”

“You said almost every path . . .” I dig a stick of gum from my pocket as my gaze drifts to the jet I’ve spent weeks flying, its metal skin gleaming under the floodlights. I toss my gum wrapper in the bin and walk over and set my fingers against the aluminum flank.

“I’m pretty sure she plans to kill us once she gets what she wants from Gwen. Kill her, too.”

“Are you saying Jezebel knows who we really are?” I turn toward her, finding her crouching to pick up my hat.

“I think so. Why else would Jezebel have told me right in front of Gwen to have sex with you?”

The blood rushes from my face. “She what?”

“She knows us well enough to realize the thought of us having sex would upset Gwen.”