“Vale isn’t waiting for a warrant anymore.”
My blood went cold.
“He knows where I live.”
“He’s already there.”
The next hour became a race.
Cross finally made the call he should have made from the beginning.
Not local authorities.
Not military police.
A federal tactical team outside Vale’s chain.
Sarah gave them names, account numbers, facility locations.
Emily handed over recordings she had secretly made at the diner.
But I didn’t care about any of it.
I cared about one thing.
The collar.
My house was two hours away.
Vale had a head start.
Cross was too injured to travel.
Sarah refused to stay behind.
“You’re not coming.”
“I’ve been locked in a room for three weeks.”
“You can barely stand.”
“Then drive smoothly.”
For the first time in eighteen months, I saw the woman I remembered.
Stubborn.
Infuriating.
Alive.
Emily came too.
Her reason was simple.
“Harlan knows where my mother lives.”
Federal agents took Harlan and Butch.
Before they loaded Harlan into the vehicle, I approached him.
“You think finding your wife makes this a happy ending?”
“Vale will kill everyone in that house before you reach the door.”
I leaned close.
“You’ve misunderstood something about me all day.”
“What’s that?”
“I wasn’t angry when Butch poured water on Rex.”
“You looked pretty angry.”
“That was restraint.”
His smile faded.
We left.
We reached my property at 4:37 in the morning.
The front door was open.
No lights.
I stopped the truck fifty yards away.
Sarah reached for my arm.
“I see it.”
Emily whispered, “Agents are ten minutes behind.”
“Too long.”
“You promised me you were done fighting.”
“Technically, you were dead when I made that promise.”
For one second she stared at me.
Then she laughed.
A tiny, broken laugh.
It was the most beautiful sound I had heard in eighteen months.
I touched her face.
“We do this carefully.”
Rex jumped down.
I didn’t command him to heel.
He already knew.
We approached through the trees.
The porch light was shattered.
The lock broken.
Inside, furniture had been overturned.
Drawers emptied.
Books thrown across the floor.
They were searching fast.
My office was at the back.
A man stepped into the hallway.
Rex saw him first.
We took him quietly.
A second man fled through the kitchen.
Emily locked herself in the truck and called the approaching team.
Sarah and I continued.
Then we reached my office.
General Adrian Vale stood behind my desk.
He wore civilian clothes.
Gray jacket.
Black gloves.
A pistol in one hand.
My old wooden memory box in the other.
He looked almost disappointed.
“General.”
His eyes moved toward Sarah.
For the first time, the confidence disappeared.
“You.”
Sarah stepped beside me.
“Surprised?”
Vale recovered quickly.
“Impressed.”
He looked down at Rex.
“And there he is.”
Rex growled.
Vale smiled.
“All this trouble because of a dog collar.”
“No,” I said.
“All this trouble because you murdered good men.”
His expression changed.
“War murders good men.”
“You sold equipment to the people killing them.”
“I funded operations Congress wouldn’t.”
“You think the world runs on clean hands, Mercer?”
I stepped closer.
“But I know the difference between dirty hands and bloody ones.”
Vale lifted the pistol.
Rex stiffened.
Vale looked almost amused.
“That dog always listened better than you.”
“You knew Larkin found you.”
“You ordered the ambush.”
Vale didn’t answer.
My hands tightened.
Sarah whispered, “Jack.”
“There she is. Still keeping you on a leash.”
I ignored him.
“Where’s the collar?”
Vale lifted the wooden box.
“Not here.”
My heart sank.
Then he threw the box onto the floor.
Empty.
“I searched everything.”
A strange expression crossed Sarah’s face.
Then she began laughing.
Vale stared at her.
Sarah looked at me.
I had never seen that smile before.
Not exactly.
She stepped toward Rex.
“Larkin knew better.”
“Sarah?”
She knelt.
Rex allowed her to touch his current collar.
She ran her fingers underneath the leather.
Then stopped.
My breath caught.
Sarah pulled free a tiny metal capsule.
Old.
Scratched.
Almost invisible beneath years of wear.
Vale’s face drained of color.
“You replaced the collar,” I said.
“But you transferred the identification capsule.”
I remembered the veterinarian doing it years ago.
A tiny piece of Rex’s old service equipment moved to every new collar because I had insisted.
Sentiment.
Habit.
Nothing more.
For six years, Rex had carried the evidence around his neck every single day.
Vale raised his weapon toward Sarah.
“Give it to me.”
I stepped between them.
“Wrong choice.”
“Move.”
His finger tightened.
Rex exploded forward.
Not at Vale.
At the wooden box.
He struck it with his shoulder.
The box slid across the floor into Vale’s shin.
Vale lost balance for half a second.
The gun fired.