Chapter 7
The deafening thip-thip-thip of silenced pistol rounds chewed through the rotting cedar door, sending a lethal shower of wooden splinters exploding across the dark cabin. Jax threw his massive body sideways, rolling hard across the dusty floorboards just as a bullet buried itself deep into the oak table where Leo had been hiding a moment before.
"Leo, go!" Jax shouted over the cracking report of the suppressed weapon, scrambling to his feet while drawing his hunting knife.
The boy didn't hesitate this time. True to his survival instincts, Leo grabbed Jax’s heavy leather vest from the floor, wrapped the thick denim and leather layers around his small forearm, and drove his elbow straight through the center of the grimy, single-pane window above the cot. Shards of glass rained down into the dirt outside like freezing rain.
Without a backward glance, Leo scrambled through the shattered frame, scraping his knees against the jagged sill, and hit the rocky slope of the ravine below with a sharp gasp.
"Got him!" a harsh voice barked from the front porch, accompanied by the heavy, crunching tread of tactical boots storming across the threshold.
Jax spun around, his back pressed firmly against the fieldstone hearth. Through the drifting haze of plaster dust and gunsmoke, a heavy-set operative stepped into the cabin, leveling an automatic carbine directly at Jax’s chest. The man’s face was obscured by a dark tactical balaclava, but his eyes burned with ruthless, calculated malice.
"End of the line, Jax," the operative growled, his finger tightening against the trigger guard of the rifle. "The syndicate wants the ledger, and the kid. You were always a sentimental fool for trying to play the guardian angel."
Jax didn't flinch. Instead, a grim, blood-stained smile touched the corners of his scarred mouth. He lowered his center of gravity, shifting his weight onto his back foot. "You think you're the first executioner who walked into a room and thought he had me dead to rights?"
Before the operative could squeeze the trigger, Jax violently kicked a heavy cast-iron poker across the stone hearth. It slammed into the intruder's shin with a sickening crunch. The man roared in pain, his aim jerking wildly upward as his rifle discharged, blowing a massive hole through the cabin’s timber ceiling.
Jax didn't waste a microsecond. He closed the gap like a freight train, driving his shoulder straight into the operative's chest and sending them both crashing backward through the frail wooden wall of the cabin. They tumbled out into the freezing night air, plummeting down the steep, rocky embankment toward the rushing river below.
Branches whipped across Jax's face as they rolled over jagged stones and loose dirt, but he maintained a vice-like grip on the operative's tactical vest, refusing to let him draw a secondary weapon. With a final, violent heave, Jax slammed the man's head against a massive granite boulder, silencing him instantly as the operative went completely limp.
Gasping for air, his chest burning and his hands slick with blood, Jax pushed himself up from the dirt. He scanned the dark ravine for any sign of the boy.
"Leo!" Jax rasped, his voice tearing raw through his throat. "Leo, where are you?"
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A small, trembling hand reached out from behind a thick cluster of mountain sagebrush a few yards away.
"I'm here, Jax," Leo whispered, his hazel eyes wide and shining with unshed tears in the moonlight. "Are we... are we still alive?"
