Edge of Defiance (Edge of Collapse, #5)

by Kyla Stone

On closer inspection, the target was only a teenager, fifteen at most. Quinn’s age. Just a dumb kid fighting his parents’ war.

Liam’s stomach wrenched, going queasy with revulsion.

“I need you,” she said. “I’m a little busy, in case you haven’t noticed.” “This is not a request. Come here and escort me from my house to a safe location.”

Um ma'am. Find you're own hiding spot.

“We’ll discuss it later. First, get me out of here.” A pause. “I’m not coming.” “I must not have heard you correctly.” “This is goodbye.”

Naw you heard right. Buh-bye!

“It’s not personal. It’s time to jump ship and find another venture—for now. Too bad it didn’t work out this time, cousin.”

“Fix this! You owe me!” “I don’t owe you anything.” “We’re family! Family is loyal!”

“Have you learned nothing? You cling to these antiquated ideals that don’t exist. That never existed! You wanted them to love you. To worship you. You want to be their savior. Look around. How did that work out for you? You should’ve done it my way.” “You lost Winter Haven!” “You lost it yourself!”

“Ours was a business proposition. It worked while it worked. Now it doesn’t.”

He’d better run and never stop. She preferred to leave the messy work to her associates, but she was not beyond doing the dirty work herself. If she ever saw Mattias Sutter again, she would kill him.

If you make it out, that is.

This was a setback, and one she’d suspected, hadn’t she? She had plans and back-up plans. Contingencies. She’d anticipated a betrayal. And now here she stood, betrayed. All was not lost. She wasn’t out of plays. Not yet.

“I cannot specify a date, only the guarantee that I will come. You’ll be contacted then, and not before.”

She switched channels. “Noah. I need you.”

I hope his dumb end don't show up. Better yet he might need to be the one to end her.

Hannah had missed a dozen times, finally catching one in the leg.

Babes just stop shooting. They don't know y'all there. You drawing attention.

Quinn, though, was a natural. She knew how to shoot with her hunting rifle and slingshot. Even without Liam’s training, she’d taken to the AR like a fish to water.

She’d eliminated two militia. It’d taken most of their ammo, but she’d done it.

Both of y'all just eating up resources lol

She looked so young. Young and vulnerable and incredibly fierce.

Had Noah picked up a weapon and fought against his own people? More likely, he was cowering in a corner somewhere with the superintendent.

They were the ones responsible for all this carnage. Cowards, the both of them.

This boy was collateral damage. The innocent always suffered the most.

Liam looked past the death and destruction to the east. He couldn’t see the cul-de-sac from here. His only thought was for Hannah. “We better make it this world.”

Quinn’s finger tightened on the trigger. Hannah shook her head at her. Not yet. Hannah needed something from this woman. The truth for Quinn, but also for herself. She hated it that she did, but that didn’t change reality.

Before Hannah could react, Quinn fired at Rosamond’s feet. The gunshot exploded against their ears, deafening in the enclosed quarters of the garage. Chunks of concrete struck the woman’s legs. She cried out and leapt back.

“Some people are no better than rats, vermin scurrying around, disrupting order, bringing chaos and destruction. He never did it to anyone important. They were scum—meth

meth heads and druggies who were a drain on the system, nothing more. They were blood-sucking leeches feeding on everything good we tried to build here. It was like taking out the trash.” Hannah said, “I am not trash.” “A different kind of trash. You weren’t good enough for Noah. You never were, never would be. Frankly, I was hoping he’d get rid of you on his own.” “You knew I was alive,” Hannah whispered. “You knew he had me.”

“Your family was better off without you. Considering how things worked out, I’d say I was right all along.”

“You should have died in that basement,” Rosamond snarled, her face a rictus of hatred. “He should’ve left you to rot!” “Stop!” Noah’s voice rang out. He stepped into the garage behind Quinn. “That’s enough!”

Reeling, Quinn stared at Noah in disbelief. This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Not Noah.

Chil'!

A surge of hope sprang to life in Quinn’s chest, a spark burning bright inside her. This was a trap. It had to be. Noah was playing Rosamond as surely as she was trying to play him. He finally saw the truth; he would come through.

She watched in horror as Noah lowered the gun. His finger slipped off the trigger. Rosamond held out her arm to Noah. He went to her, his back bent, weeping bitterly.

Quinn caught a glimpse of furtive movement. Rosamond’s free hand reaching for something—a glint of metal.

Quinn had one option, one chance. She released the flechette.

Rosamond’s hands flitted to her neck, fluttering like bird wings. Blood leaked from the six-inch nail lodged deep in her throat.

He made no move to help her. He made no move at all.

“Don’t,” Quinn said. But Hannah did. “We aren’t them,” she said. “We aren’t the monsters.”

She raised the .45,

and fired a sing...

Rosamond Sinclair ...

He tried to stand but found that he couldn’t move. His limbs were filled with cement. He felt cold, so cold. And pain. Pain pulsing from somewhere deep inside his core.

He lowered his gaze and looked down at himself. Startled, he found there was a hole in his coat over his stomach. Wetness spread beneath his shirt.

Even knowing the terrible truth, he’d still choked. He hadn’t pulled the trigger. And in the end, when she’d finally turned on him, too, he’d been surprised.

Even if Milo lived, he could never forgive himself. Never.

He had caused this. All of it. With his doubt, his inaction, his unwillingness to see the ugly truth, choosing instead to embrace the beautiful lie—until it destroyed what he loved most.

Only now, when it was far too late, did he see how wrong he was.

He wanted to believe he was a better man than he was. Instead, he was small and afraid and weak. Dimly, he wished he had been a good person. A person with conviction and courage. How different things could have been.

He didn’t look like Noah anymore. He was a mannequin dressed in the same clothes, with the same dark brown hair, the same handsome face she’d known so well.

He was gone. Her husband. The father of her son. Gone forever.

Despite his worst choices, she had still cared for him.

Quinn rocked back and forth, shaking her head, her shoulders quaking. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “No! No, no, no, no!” She pounded her fists on Noah’s chest, furious, devastated, grief-stricken. “Why did you trust her? Why? Now you’re dead! Why did you believe her!”

“You let her kill you! You let her. You did it, you did it…”

“He knew! He knew what she was—but he hugged her anyway, and she just, she shot him…I tried, I wasn’t fast enough—”