?Chapter 1338:


    Every trace of emotion drained from Afara’s features, leaving behind nothing but icy calction.


    “The n worked perfectly. Noah took a bullet, and Sadie is in the hospital.” His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, though victory rang clear in every word. “I have the item. Per our arrangement, we can move forward with the trade.”


    Dense smoke poured through the air, making it almost impossible to breathe.


    Hurst stumbled from the zing wreckage, ash coating his skin like war paint, before his legs gave out and he crashed to the earth in a fit of violent coughing.


    His chest burned as though he had swallowed liquid fire.


    He pushed himself upright, staring at the skeletal remains of the wooden shack while rage and terror battled for control of his thoughts. He spat curses at Afara’s name.


    Afara had never been just some carefree yboy—he was a calcting predator who had waited patiently for the perfect moment to strike. The bastard had mapped every corner of the building better than him, the one who lived there.


    Each gesture, each piece of bait, had been precisely orchestrated.


    The truth hit Hurst like a sledgehammer—Noah was walking into danger, and the message had been nothing more than carefully crafted bait.


    Panic seized Hurst as he patted down his pockets, relief flooding through him when his fingers found his phone and the screen flickered to life.


    His hands shook as he entered the digits burned into his memory.


    The phone rang endlessly before someone finally picked up, but instead of Noah’s voice, he heard the sharp crack of gunshots and the dull thud of bodies hitting the floor.


    Hurst’s heart mmed against his ribs and lodged in his throat. “Noah! It’s a setup! You need to get out now! Afara got away—he torched my ce. The son of a bitch isn’t with the Wolfpack!”


    Noah’s voice came through steady and controlled, though Hurst caught the telltale rasp ofbored breathing. “I know.”


    Hurst fell silent, understanding dawning on him that Noah had probably smelled the trap long before he’d walked into it.


    “The story about Emerson’s daughter hurting herself—it was a lie. Afara fed us that bullshit to draw you out. He…”


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    Before he couldplete the thought, a strangled groan echoed through the speaker, the sound of someone fighting through excruciating pain.


    Hurst’s chest tightened like a vise.


    “Are you hurt?”


    Several seconds of silence stretched between them before Noah’s voice cut through again, sharp with authority despite the circumstances. “Find somewhere safe and stay put. I’ll reach out when this mess is cleaned up.”


    The call was abruptly disconnected.


    Frozen in ce, Hurst gripped the phone, a chill creeping up his spine. When this mess was cleaned up?


    Noah was wounded, cornered by enemies. How was he supposed to clean up the mess?


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