“And you’re just telling us all this now, Tom?” Mercy asked through clenched teeth, terrified of what Ephraim would do to the hostages if he saw Molina and the SWAT team.

Tom put away his laptop, then turned in his seat to look at them. “Yes. You would have worried unnecessarily otherwise, and don’t even try claiming that I’m wrong.”

Mercy blew out a breath. “You’re not wrong.”

“I know,” Tom said, but there was no trace of condescension or smugness. “Also, there are vests and helmets in the very back. The windows of this SUV are bullet-resistant, but we’re not taking any chances. Daisy, if you could give everyone their gear?”

Daisy did as Tom asked and no words were spoken as they put on the tactical gear.

They remained silent until Rafe said, “Pull over here. We’re a quarter mile from the coordinates.”

Gideon did and Mercy suddenly felt sick. This was it. They were going to face Ephraim Burton. And she was going to trust her new family to make sure that all of them walked away alive.

Except for Ephraim. I want to see him die. Painfully.

DUNSMUIR, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 4:25 P.M.

Sonofabitch. Ephraim backed away from the road, his heart pounding like a motherfucker. They’re here. Already. How are they here already?

But they were, specifically Gideon and that tall blond Fed who’d visited the Sokolovs’ house twice on Sunday, and they were approaching the tree stump where he’d left Farrah Romero’s phone.

How were they here already? They’d just left Sacramento half an hour ago. Mercy had said so.

Mercy had clearly lied. Rage bubbled up and he had to breathe through it so that he didn’t punch something or snarl. Because Gideon and the Fed were so close that they might hear him.

She’d lied and disobeyed, bringing the Feds. How many others were here?

Was she even here? If she’d double-crossed him . . .

Motherfucker. He was going to kill all of the hostages and he was going to make it hurt. He crept back to the camper, fuming. He’d parked off the road about a quarter mile away but had been about to move the camper even deeper into the forest. It was too late for that now. If he started the Escalade’s engine, Gideon and the other Fed would hear it and come running. And even if they didn’t, he’d be shocked if law enforcement hadn’t barricaded the road.

He’d thought he’d have at least two or three hours to prepare, even if Mercy did tell the cops. Instead, he’d wasted what time he had sleeping. Goddammit.

He needed to find another way out. And of the three hostages, Dr. Romero was the one most likely to help make that happen. The other two he’d kill now, because there’d be no controlling them. Together they might be able to overpower him.

Leaning Granny’s rifle against the side of the camper, he drew Regina’s gun, gave the suppressor a tightening twist, and opened the camper door. Both Damien Sokolov and André Holmes were motionless except for the deep breaths they drew. He wished he had time to let them wake up. He wanted them to suffer, not die in their sleep.