Edge of Valor: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival Thriller(73)

Their last moments together were perfect. He wanted her to remember him like that. He wanted his last memory of her to be that one. The way her hair looked spilling around her shoulders, the depth of her eyes in the firelight, how dark they turned when she kissed him.

“No,” he said. “She doesn’t.”

Quinn stared at him steadily. She wasn’t taking silence for an answer. “Where are you going?”

“To cut the head off the snake.”

“What if there’s more than one head?”

She always was a smart one. Cunning and quick-thinking. It would serve her well.

“I don’t think there is.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

“It’s a risk I have to take.”

“You’re going to kill the General.” She said it flatly. A statement, not a question.

“I’m going to try.”

“How are you going to get close to him?”

“Anyone ever told you that you ask too many questions?”

She snorted. “All the time.”

“As long as this man lives, Hannah and Charlotte will be in danger. For them, I have to do this.”

She took a step forward. The strap of her AR-15 was slung across her shoulder. She practically slept with the thing. “I want to come with you.”

“I have to do this alone.”

She scowled. “I thought you said that lone-wolf stuff was stupid thinking.”

“It is. But in this case, it’s the only way it’ll work. Believe me, I’ve thought it through. This is the only way.”

“That’s why you’re sneaking out. Because Bishop and Hannah won’t agree to it. This isn’t a good idea.”

His stomach somersaulted. “Quinn.”

“Are you coming back?”

His knee-jerk response was an obvious of course, but he hesitated. She wasn’t a little kid. She’d been through too much for him to lie to her. He owed her that much.

“I don’t know,” he said. And then, “Probably not.”

Dismayed, Quinn’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. She shook her head fiercely. “No.”

“Yes. I have to. I must.”

She took another step into the dark living room. Even in the moonlight, he could see the anguish contorting her features. “Then let me come with you.”

“Sorry, kid. That won’t work. It has to be me. Me alone.”

She went rigid. “Why not?”

“I’m the only one he won’t kill on sight.”

For a long moment, she didn’t say a word. They stared at each other in the darkness, thinking the things neither of them could say out loud.

“I need you here. She needs you.”

He didn’t need to say who. They both knew.

“Okay, Wolverine,” she said finally. “I trust you. So, okay.”

He blinked, startled at the strength of the emotion surging in his chest. How badly he wanted to stay, to choose a different path.

To watch this sixteen-year-old girl grow into the seasoned warrior she was destined to become.

“Protect her,” Liam said. “Protect them.”

Quinn lifted her chin. “I will.”





52





The General





Day One Hundred and Fourteen





The General stood before the window, spine erect, hands clasped at the small of his back. It was a regal stance. Imposing. Victorious.

An excellent pose for the cover of a bestselling book destined to become a classic.

The Governor of Michigan was dead.

This time tomorrow, the General would have control of Fall Creek. Liam Coleman’s corpse would be strung on a wall. His great-granddaughter would be his to mold.

And the Syndicate would be in his sights.

Because the General had convinced Governor Duffield to defy federal orders and keep their military resources local, Michigan was the only state in the Midwest with an army strong enough to put Poe down.

The Syndicate had done his dirty work for him, as intended. Poe had come to the end of his usefulness.

With Poe gone, Illinois and Indiana would beg Michigan to step in and restore order. Which the General would be happy to do—for a price.

By the time Lauren Eubanks was officially the governor, she’d be on her knees, answering to him.

The General called Poe on his sat phone.

Time to set up the trap he had planned.

Poe didn’t bother to say hello. “I think this will be the last time I accept your call, General.”

The General stiffened. “What the hell does that mean?”

“You’ve let a fox into the henhouse, Byron. A fox does what he does.”

“You promised to stay out of Michigan.”

“I don’t recall that little detail.”

“Michigan is mine!” the General snarled. “You have the entire Midwest!”

“Do I? Because I sense that I’ve grown too large for my fishbowl.”

The General ground his teeth. Poe was smarter than the General had given him credit for. He was figuring out the bigger picture.

“Not so malleable as you first thought, eh? I’m smart. Smarter than you, old man.”