Dylan had thought he’d hit his tipping point when he’d rescued a beaten, tortured woman. Now that he’d tasted her sweetness and heard her cry his name while she fell apart in his arms, he realized he’d been nowhere close to tipping.

Now though. Now he’d shifted and jetted straight into enraged. He charged passed his brothers and tapped in his code. The buzzer sounded on the room.

“Don’t,” warned Cord.

“Take a step back. Let us handle this,” Marshall said.

“Those bastards followed her around town. What the hell was their play? That’s what I’m going to found out.” His voice thundered through the containment observation room. “Now let me in the fucking room.”

“We’ll get the answers. All of them. First from them, then Driggs,” Jesse promised.

“She can’t even fucking breathe without them on her. That’s no way to live. I’m not letting that keep on, keeping her locked in our compound, chained to our property like a dog. She can finally breathe, feel life outside operations. She was in town buying lacy shit, sharing her happy with her crew, and those pricks slid past our radar and got onto her.” He turned, angered he’d let everyone convince him she was safe alone in town.

The door beeped open. Vi walked in with Addy. Laptop perched on her left hand, she looked at Dylan with tears in her eyes.

“You got her back for me. My Mary is back. Go. Do what you’ve gotta do, just remember she’s waiting for you. Keep them breathing. I can cover anything else.” Vi blinked rapidly as she sat next to Cord.

Finally. He’d get answers. He charged into the second holding room where they’d kept the driver, Rick Montez, a local prick who’d gotten a two grand deposit in his bank this morning.

“Man, you can’t hold me. I’ve got rights.”

“Sit down and shut the fuck up. You’ve got the rights I decide to give you. Right now, I’m not feeling very giving.” He kicked the chair toward the asshole against the wall.

Montez was the mouthpiece and ring leader for the other two schmucks in adjacent cells. One of them would break, but Dylan figured this one had the most intel.

“Who hired you?”

“Man, you’re crazy. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was cruising with my buddy, and you and your brothers rolled up on us like you’re gangsters or something. Get me my lawyer. I’m going to sue your asses.” He laughed and looked Dylan up and down. “Yeah, I’m gonna own all this shit by the time I’m through with you.”

“You’re so far over your head on this you don’t even realize you’re a dead man walking.” Dylan waited until the man sat in the chair, then approached. “Whoever hired you didn’t tell you who they were. Did he?”

“No one hired me. I was cruising, showing off my new ride. One you crashed.”

“Yeah? You stop and buy a new dress for that fine little figure of yours first? You’d better pack it, because it’ll probably keep you breathing. Where you’re going, assuming I let you go, they like little things like you. That dress will look real sweet around your waist as your bent over.”

“I’m out of here. You can’t keep me.” The man rose and headed for the door. He yelped when the handle shocked him. The sizzle cut through the room.

That was new.

Dylan chuckled. Someone had rewired the security. Interesting.

“You at the dance last night?”

“Yeah, so?”

“You remember the pretty brunette who got up in Hailey’s face?”

The man swallowed and sat.

“Yeah, you remember. She mentioned someone, a girl who knew a thousand different ways to kill someone. She was in that truck. They both were. They’ll be in here next. You won’t handle them.”

“I was just supposed to grab the stupid bitch, okay?” He shouted. “That’s all, man.”

“Which one? Who were you sent for?”

“The one from last night. Your woman.”

“Who hired you?”

“I don’t know. Me and my guys have a reputation for handling problems. Word got around. We got a call from a local number, some dude hanging out at Bubba’s after the dance. I heard the jukebox in the background. You know, the way it rattles and whines.” Rick shook his head. “The dude had already deposited two G’s in my account. I had to take the gig.”

“Where were you taking her?”

“The old Burton place. The crazy bastard had an underground tunnel system for the drug running. This dude knew all about it.”

Fuck.

Dylan charged out of the room. Marshall and Jesse were on their phones. Cord was furiously pounding away on Vi’s computer. Addy was looking around, confused.

“It’s next door,” Dylan said. “The old man was whacked, built a whole network of underground tunnels. Some tap into our land. Hell, the first level of this underground facility bumps up against one. We should’ve thought of that.”

“You’re saying those crazy bastards with Driggs could bust in underneath you? This entire time? No wonder they wanted us all here. We’re fish in a barrel,” Addy replied.

“No one in Warrior’s Path is cleared for this area,” Jesse commented. “Unless someone’s been talking, that narrows the field down.”

“Round everyone up,” Marshall ordered. “Anyone flagged. I want them down here and contained until we get some answers.”

Jesse and Cord headed out.

“Time to question Driggs,” Marshall said.

“I’ve gotta get Mary,” Dylan replied.

“Later. I want answers now. We could have an entire squad of men on our doorstep.”

“Two minutes. I promised she could be here.”

Marshall’s jaw twitched. “Go.”

A SLIGHT TREMBLE RESONATED in Mary’s bones. Not because of something she’d witnessed, or done. No, for once her hands were clean. Her mind clear and her conscious unharmed by a decision she’d made to keep an operative alive.

The tremble existed because Dylan’s rage was her own. She fed off the agitation in his gaze, the thundering animosity in the way he prowled down the empty corridors like a fierce lion hunting prey.

“Dylan.”

“Not now, sweetheart. Marshall’s waiting.”

“Then let him.” She snagged his shirt and pulled. “Talk to me.”

“The guys in the truck were local, hired by direct deposit and a phone call. Vi’s working the deposit. Cord and Jesse are rounding up everyone flagged for containment.” His voice was a monotone, rote reply without emotion. “It’s time to question Driggs.”

Her stomach tightened. He turned and headed into the room, one with glass walls all the way down. The corridors were bulletproof glass as well. The walls along the containment areas were metal, seemed thick but that was merely a guess since they’d spent the money on bulletproofing glass. Why cheap out on the rest?

Marshall and Nolan were arguing with Dylan in the corner. Jesse approached. Hand on her shoulder, he squeezed and did a slight shake of his head. She approached the huddle.

“You can’t do this, man,” Jesse said. “You’re too close to this. It’ll fuck with your head.”

“He’s right,” Nolan added. “You got out to get away from this shit.”

“Stay out of it,” Dylan warned as he looked at Marshall. “I’m lead. I question him.”

“Why don’t you let us have the first crack?” Jesse suggested.

“He’s mine,” he growled.

Mary’s gut twisted. He’d gotten out, run from the demons haunting him. She couldn’t let him take Driggs for her.

I couldn’t kill to live, not anymore. Because I was starting to forget why I bothered living at all.

The confession haunted her. He deserved a clean soul. The blood spilled today was hers to wear, not his.

“Who’s questioning Driggs?” Mary asked.

“I am,” Dylan replied. He glanced over at Vi. “No recording.”

Vi looked at her wide-eyed. Yeah, damn. This wasn’t going to end well. No matter what she did, Dylan would get pissed, but she couldn’t stand back and let him...

This was her responsibility. Her job. Marshall, Nolan, Cord, and Jesse stood near Dylan. Dallas leaned against the door into the hallway leading to Drigg’s chamber.

“I’ll—” Vi snapped her mouth shut when Mary made the cut throat motion.

“No. This is me.”

“Marshall, per our agreement, interrogations fall under my purview. Mine and Vi’s. Isn’t that correct?” She summoned the voice she’d used thousands of times. She was The Edge. “As long as The Arsenal has the Quillery Edge, we hold final say on data acquisition.”

Marshall’s jaw twitched as he glanced to where Dallas was against the door. Jesse cursed and swiped a hand across his face.

Dylan’s body tightened as he struck her with an angered, dead-eyed stare she felt rip her insides. “You don’t get to make a call here, Mary. You needed to be here for closure. I need this for closure.”

“You promised me you’d stay at my side, get me through. You can’t do that if you’re in there.”

“If you can’t handle watching, then leave. I’m thinking you’ll be okay with what I do. You’ve dealt with this shit for how many years?” Dylan looked past Dallas and into the chamber holding Driggs.

Mary forced her gaze to remain in the room, not on the man who’d wrecked her life. “You promised me, Dylan.”

“Leave, Mary. Go back to our room. This won’t take long.”

Mary took a deep breath and sealed off the pain and fear coursing through her. Regret surged forward, followed by shock, denial, anger and...

Love.

She loved Dylan so much she couldn’t let him do this. She’d seen operatives past the breaking point, the one where they checked their humanity at the door and walked out a tortured soul with no scruples, no morals. A cold-blooded killer.

Ravaged by what they’d done.

She’d studied Dylan’s file extensively, like she had all the others. He wasn’t an interrogator. He felt too deeply to summon the cold-blooded nature required to get answers no matter what.

He may have done some enhanced interrogation while in Delta, but he was a sniper. He killed from a distance, saw the target through a scope. Not up close and personal. Though it shouldn’t make a difference, it did.

A world of difference.

And he’d left because he couldn’t handle the blood on his soul. He had no business in the room. None of the Masons did. She’d seen their records.

If she let Dylan walk in and do what was required to get answers, neither of them would walk away unscathed. Martin Driggs wouldn’t breathe after this was over. Men like him, the intel they carried...

Someone in the alphabet soup had likely sent the notice. Dylan as much as admitted it last night. She noted as much in Marshall’s gaze, the way he wouldn’t meet hers. Dylan couldn’t kill Driggs. Not for her.

“I couldn’t stare through my site and end another life, know I stopped another heartbeat with my bullet. Even if they deserved it.” Mary swallowed as she repeated the words he’d whispered just last night. “I couldn’t kill to live, not anymore. Because I was starting to forget why I bothered living at all.”

Dylan glared at her, rage evident in his expression. “Don’t. Don’t toss words I said in bed. Nothing I said there counts, not here. This is my job.”

“No, Dylan. It’s not. You are an operative, not an interrogator. Data acquisitions is under my purview, and you are not psychologically fit to perform the required duties. You are not handling Martin Driggs or anyone else in those cells.” Mary’s voice thundered through the room.

Dylan backed up a step, hurt on his face. Regret punctured the ice forming around her soul, but it was too late. She’d slipped into The Edge, become what was needed to keep everyone safe, even if it meant using their own words against them.

“Vi, get Fallon in here. He and Gage Sanderson are the only two I’ll clear to handle enhanced interrogations of Martin Driggs and anyone else for this mission.” She pulverized Marshall with a glare. “Am I clear, or do we need to renegotiate our positions here?”

“You’re crystal clear,” Dylan growled as he charged out and slammed the door.

“I’ve got him,” Dallas said.

“No. I’ve got him.” Addy ran out.

Fuck.

Mary took a couple deep breaths and forced the pain aside. Emotion had no place in operations, and this was a critical mission. Not because of what Driggs had done to her, but because of who he worked for. The fact he might have murdered Peter. Who was everything he intended to take going to?

The questions listed in her mind, but they didn’t need them. The men gathered around her knew.

“Mary, I...”

“Don’t.” She held up her hand and kept her gaze averted from Vi’s. “Please. Not now. Our responsibilities as operations is clear. We protect our assets, even from themselves. Going in there would’ve psychologically damaged him, perhaps permanently. It’s why he left Delta. I’m not a shrink, but I’m not taking the chance. Not with him or anyone else. Not when we have men who can do the job on site.”

“You ever stop and think that’s part of the problem. You’re his. It’s his responsibility to protect you, get the job done. Not Sanderson’s, and sure as fuck not Graves’s.” Marshall said. “He’s not a robot. He can’t turn his emotions on and off like a cold-hearted bitch.”

And she could. The punch landed dead center. She closed her eyes and took the hit a few beats, then got to work. “If you’re done ripping me up to defend your little brother instead of leading your organization like an effective manager would, can we please get to work?”

“Edge, you shouldn’t be here. Not without Dylan.” Jesse approached, hesitancy in his voice.

“Well, that was his choice. And clearly, I can’t trust any of you to have his six and get this done without anyone being traumatized by it afterward.”

“And you won’t be traumatized?” Vi shot back angrily. “Talk about a fucking ironic situation.”

“If you don’t like it, get the hell out. Addy and Dylan already have.” She shouted the statement, channeling what rage she could to expel it before it seared her insides. “Go ahead. Get the fuck out. Leave like everyone else. I don’t need anyone. Keeping promises. Helping me through. Fuck it. I’ll do it myself. I may be a cold-hearted bitch when necessary, but at least I won’t get gutted by doing my job and keeping someone I love safe.”

She sat at the laptop and pounded her password into the keyboard. Graves and Sanderson entered, their expressions murderous as they swept the room. Fallon’s settled on hers.

“Where’s Dylan?”

“Getting his ass kicked by Addy. Doctor Parsons and Logan are trying to calm the two of them down, though no one knows what the hell went down.” Gage looked at Marshall. “What’s the play?”

“Don’t ask me. She’s in charge,” Marshall said. “She’s The Edge. She’s always in control.”

“Jesus, you’re a real bastard when you’re pissed,” Jesse commented. “Back off. Don’t say anything more you’ll regret when the tension settles.”

“More like testosterone. Freaking goddamn men.” Vi muttered under her breath.

“Driggs is in containment. Here are the briefing notes—what I can get from the system since no one had updated anything and everyone is focused on something else but the objective.” She handed the electronic pad to Fallon. “You two decide how you want to approach. I’m tapping out on this one.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. You’re green lighted. Either of you can handle it without blow back. That’s all I wanted, and I’m too close to plan the play myself. No one in here is neutral enough to take my place effectively, so I’m here. But I’m ceding control to you two.” She leaned back in the chair and covered her face. “I must’ve left my cold-hearted bitch back in my other robot outfit.”

“I’m missing something here,” Gage commented.

“Several somethings,” Fallon added.

“He’s marked,” she said. “Marshall didn’t say so, but we handled more than enough of these at Hive for me to know. Final order is to neutralize. That’s the summation of what you missed.”

Anger seeped through the mental barriers she’d constructed. Fallon and Gage hadn’t even left the control room, and she was already shredding through her last nerve. Damn.

With a deep breath, she held up her hand in the hold motion they used at Hive. Fallon froze, watched. Waited. She scrolled through her cell and found the number she’d programmed, more out of a compulsive need to have everyone’s contact information at the ready than an expectation of need.

The phone didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. The walls probably prevented it for security reasons. She grabbed the land line and keyed in the number.

“Parsons.”

“This is Mary. Fallon Graves and Gage Sanderson are prepared to interrogate Martin Driggs. I’m unfit to fulfill my duties and need you to take my place. They’re unlikely to require assistance, but they need backup in either case. No one here is neutral enough to handle it. I’m sure Logan can show you where containment is.”

“We’ll be there immediately.”

Mary waited in the tense silence. Parsons and Logan entered, their assessing gazes sweeping the room. The latter crouched in front of her, but she couldn’t handle the pretend world where what she felt mattered. Not in here, where it was her job to keep people safe. Secure the assets. Eliminate the threats.

Dylan had almost stepped over a line for her. And everyone was okay with it. That’s what pissed her off the most. But she had no room for anger. It was an emotion, and when people held the position she did, emotions were a weakness. One which jeopardized everyone.

That’s why she’d been so successful. She’d been nothing more than the job. A robot, just like Marshall said. For a few wonderful days she’d had good. Clean, whole emotions tied to nothing but her. Life. Happiness.

Love.

But the foolish pipe dream was over, safely packed away somewhere deep inside where it would remain as long as necessary to end this mess. Then she’d decide what, if anything, to do afterward. Now that she’d had a taste of what was, living numb killed something deep inside her.

“Mary, I need you to talk to me,” Vi said.

“Later, not now.” She rubbed her face and wished the godforsaken day would end already. “Someone text me when this is over and we have answers.”

Mary stood and did the unthinkable—she left.