Page 238 of Red Marked

“He hit you?” It comes out of Flint as a snarl.

“Yes, he did. Not while we were dating, but once I found out what he did.” I nod. “He also threatened my family. I knew I had to get away from him, but I was afraid of what he’d do to them.”

My eyes sting. My throat closes up, and I have to swallow twice before it opens.

“Hey.” Flint’s voice has gone quiet. “It’s over. He’s never going to hurt anyone again. Are you sure I can’t kill him? I would love to fucking kill that asshole.”

“No. I mean it. Killing him would be too easy. What we have planned is so much better.” I wipe under my eyes with the side of my finger. “He’ll hate it.”

The clinic gate comes up out of the trees, and Flint turns up the music again. The guard in the booth sees Flint through the windshield and waves. The boom goes up before we’ve stopped, and we drive straight through.

“We have a few things to do, including going to fetch your females and Holt, of course. We will need to fetch them on separate runs. I’ll need you to come along on both of those, Star.” He glances my way.

“Of course.”

“Then you can go and see your family.” Flint puts his hand on my leg for a quick second. “It’s over, Star.”

“It’s nearly over,” Rift corrects from the back. “We still have to take out the trash.”

Flint parks on the far side of the lot and gets out, and I get out after him. He looks up and lifts one arm. The lead dragon screeches once, and the whole formation turns away toward border patrol.

He pulls out his phone and types.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. Behind me, Rift’s does the same.

Night training. Be on the pad at 11 pm sharp.

I look at Flint and pull in a breath. The nerves are back, but they’re a different kind now. The good kind.

He pops the trunk.

We go around to fetch our bags.

Jett is lying on his side between the duffel bags. Zip ties at his wrists and ankles, tape around his head, a strip of the steel-infused cord wound around him from shoulders to knees so he can’t shift. He’s awake. His eyes are wide, one of them only half open through the swelling, and his chest is going up and down fast.

“Hello, everyone.” Brian is crossing the lot toward us, hands in his pockets. “I take it you had a good couple of days off?”

“We did,” Flint says. “Did you bring it?”

Brian nods and takes a capped syringe out of his jacket. “This will put down an ox.” He grins.

“Good. I don’t want him waking up and making any noise. I don’t want anyone finding him. His heart rate needs to be low, together with his breathing.”

Brian reaches us and looks into the trunk. “Wow. So this is the guy.”

“Yes, it is.”

“From the look of him, I’d say you took out all your frustration on him.”

“Damned right I did.” Flint holds up his hands. There’s a yellowing bruise across the knuckles of his right hand and a small cut on the left. “I really wish Star would let me kill him, but I get it.”

Brian uncaps the syringe. He leans into the trunk.

“It’s time to go night-night,” he tells Jett.

Jett’s eyes go even wider. He moans into the tape and bucks against the cord. Brian slides the needle into his neck and pushes the plunger down. Jett fights it for about three seconds and then goes still. His eyes close.

“Thank you,” Flint says.