Mercy patted his uninjured arm. “She’s okay, André. He didn’t hurt her.”

André’s eyes flashed. “He killed her aunt. He terrified her. He needs to be stopped.”

He needs to die, Mercy thought grimly. “Did he come after her?”

André swallowed again. “Yeah, so I tackled him. Fucker’s stronger than he looks.”

“He raises the animals,” Mercy said. “Daily manual labor.”

“Still.” André huffed. “He got in a few good punches until I got my hands around his throat. I wish I’d squeezed harder.”

Mercy nodded, the tiny movement harder than it should have been. I’m so damn tired. “Me too.”

Rafe turned Mercy toward the back seat of the Subaru. “Sit with Farrah. She needs you. We’re going to keep watch. If he comes back, you duck low. You do not sacrifice yourself again. Do you hear me?”

Mercy didn’t even consider arguing. She was cold, her legs like rubber, and Farrah did need her. She gave Rafe a tired nod, then climbed into the seat next to her friend and put her arms around her. “We’re okay,” Mercy murmured.

Farrah shuddered out a breath. “I heard Rafe. You shouldn’t have sacrificed yourself for me like that. When Rafe pushed you out of the way, you should have stayed there.”

Sasha looked over her shoulder in irritation. “She did it again? Dammit, Mercy, you make me want to smack you.”

Farrah’s eyes widened. “Again? Fucking hell, Mercy.”

Mercy hesitated. “It turned out all right. That’s how Rafe shot him.”

Farrah shook her head in disbelief. “You idiot.” She threw her arms around Mercy’s neck for a rib-crushing hug before pulling back. “Never again. Promise me, Mercy.”

Mercy gave a single nod, but it was a lie. I’d do it again. In a heartbeat.

RENO, NEVADA

MONDAY, APRIL 17, 8:15 P.M.

Special Agent in Charge Molina settled into the hospital waiting room chair. “How are Miss Sokolov and Detective Rhee?”

Erin had been airlifted to the Reno hospital, and even though Sasha’s injuries hadn’t been urgent enough to require the helicopter ride out of Snowbush, she’d refused to allow Erin to be alone.

The rest of them had first headed to the smaller hospital in Alturas, about thirty minutes north of Snowbush. Both Gideon and André had received stitches. Luckily Mercy, Farrah, and Daisy were unhurt, physically at least. Farrah was still withdrawn, the attack piling on top of her grief over her aunt Quill. Mercy was worried about her, holding one of her friend’s hands tightly while André held Farrah close with his good arm.

Mercy also worried about Rafe. He grimaced whenever he moved his leg. He shouldn’t have been doing all that running. Not any of that running, she corrected herself. He was in pain and it was so hard not to feel guilty about that. Her mind knew it was all on Ephraim’s head, but her heart kept reminding her that none of her friends would have been targeted had it not been for . . . Me.