DUNSMUIR, CALIFORNIA

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 19, 5:20 P.M.

Rafe twisted back up to his knee and yanked the revolver from Burton’s now limp fingers. It had all happened in less than two seconds, but it wasn’t over yet.

Mercy was screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming and swinging Rafe’s cane and striking Burton wherever she could. Again and again, with a viciousness that could only come from the sudden release of emotions damaged through horrific abuse.

Gideon stood frozen, his gaze locked on his sister, who swung the cane in a mad frenzy. Rafe shouted his friend’s name, but Gideon’s mind was in another place. In another time.

Oh. Oh no. Too late, Rafe realized that Gideon was coming face-to-face with the man who’d beaten him near to death the night of his thirteenth birthday. The man who’d brutally raped his mother and his sister. Oh, Gid. I’m sorry. Gideon had thought he could handle this, but . . . Who could?

Part of Rafe wanted to let Mercy beat Burton to death, but he knew she would regret that later. Other people deserved to see Burton punished. The bastard needed to face his many victims, which couldn’t happen if Mercy killed him.

“Mercy!” Rafe lunged for her, but couldn’t reach her from his knees.

Farrah reached for Mercy’s arm but she couldn’t extend her hands high enough with her wrists being bound with tape. She was flung backward when Mercy swung the cane again, too deep in her rage to know whose hands were on her.

“Help me up,” Rafe gritted to Farrah. Offering her shoulder, she gave him something to grab on to as she helped heft him to his feet. Catching the cane midswing, he handed it to Farrah, who laid it on the road and backed away as if it were a live snake. Farrah sank to her knees, trembling head to toe as the reality of being safe finally sank in.

But for the moment, Rafe was focused on Mercy, turning her in his arms. Balancing on one foot, he wrapped his arms around her and rocked her slowly. He took off her helmet and stroked her hair, pressing her face into his neck and murmuring that it would be all right. That they’d done it. They’d stopped him.

That she’d stopped him.

But he didn’t think she heard a word he said. She was sobbing uncontrollably, her legs abruptly folding, taking them both to the cold ground.

Behind him, Rafe could hear the click of handcuffs and Gideon’s hoarse voice commanding Burton to his knees, then informing the man of his rights. Seeing Mercy collapse must have been the jolt he’d needed to come back to himself.

It was over. They’d done it. Turning on his ass so that he could see Gideon, Rafe pulled Mercy into his lap, unwilling to let her go. Burton was on his knees, hands cuffed behind him. His face was bleeding and . . . Rafe swallowed. His eye had fallen out under Mercy’s well-deserved assault.