Page 34 of Pucked Around and Found Out

Vox—two horns, flecks of blue through the wood.

Ezekiel—right horn, flecks of gray through the wood.

Archer—no horns, darker brown flecks throughout.

Hayze—left horn, green flecks through the wood.

Seeing all four standing side by side is fucking eerie.

All four masks are fitted with voice distorters. The only reason I can tell them apart is because Vivi and Nova warned me beforehand.

I know they've been ordered never to wear these masks again—Deputy Director Fiona fucking Williams threatened them with prison if they did.

We have a plan for that bitch.

Xaden is part of that plan. He just doesn't know it yet.

I claim my spot beside Carnage. He reaches over and clasps my hand, interlocking his fingers through mine. The gesture is grounding, protective.

I look up at my friend and offer a small smile. I can see the pain and exhaustion carved into his features, but he tries to hide it. He shouldn't be here, his injuries from the ambush are still healing but none of us could make him stay away.

Not even his twin.

“He's going to come in guns blazing,” Alex announces to the group. “He's too angry to focus. Use that to our advantage.”

“Xaden is calculated,” I counter, my voice tight.

“No man is ever calculated when it comes to their blind spot,” Alex volleys back.

“He doesn't have one.” The warning in my voice is clear.

“Neither did I.” Alex's tone softens slightly. “Now I have a huge blind spot that goes by the name of Tatum.”

Hearing Alex speak so freely about Tate makes my heart warm despite everything. If a man like him is able to love so honestly, why can't⁠—

I shut down that train of thought before it can fully form.

“Incoming,” Carnage utters quietly.

I look up at him and quirk a brow in question.

“We have men scattered around here and on all the roads. They aren't in eyesight because that would be a show of force.”

My jaw drops. “You⁠—”

“This way, we have a chance to speak to the little shit,” one of the Filthy Few cuts in.

I snap my head around and shoot them a glare. “That little shit has lost everything. Cut him some damn slack!”

The words burst out before I can stop them. I instantly cringe.

“Everyone has lost someone,” Vox says, his voice distorted through the mask but no less firm. “Quit thinking of him as a person, Toren. He's just a guy who's coming after you. Nothing more. Get the intel and we're out.”

I deflate at his words.

He's right. I know he's right.

“Okay,” I mutter, just as the sound of approaching vehicles hits our ears.