The battle sputtered out in the fog, rain spitting sideways across the sand, turning the air cold and slick. By the minute, it thickened, a steady sheet that blurred the shoreline into gray.
Both sides held their ground, neither willing to fire the first shot.
Dave moved from behind the retaining wall, boots finding the slick steps as Stone and Law took point ahead of him—shields between him and the chaos below.
Viper and Titus broke apart, all blood and fury and rain.
Beneath the floodlights, Titus spat red into the sand, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then flicked a signal toward Beckman.
“Stand down.” Titus’s voice rumbled, low and commanding.
Dave watched the shift ripple through the line—Titus’s men freezing, then slowly lowering their weapons.
The silence that followed cut jaggedly through the downpour.
Dave’s own team turned toward him. He raised a hand—no words needed. Stand down.
Titus held out his wrists. Words goading. “Cuff me if it’ll make you feel safer.”
Viper was already on Titus, fisting the man’s collar, until the cuffs clicked shut. Rain streaked over Viper’s face, mixing with blood.
“Move,” Viper growled, dragging Titus through the sand.
Beckman started forward, tension sharp in his stance, but Titus shook his head once. “Wait here. Hold the beach.”
The order landed hard, and Beckman obeyed, posting his men along the shoreline while Viper hauled Titus over to stand before Dave.
He met Titus’s eyes, then Viper’s. His voice was even. “Bring him inside.”
Dave turned back up the steps, Stone falling in at his side.
The sound of the crashing surf followed them.
The war room smelled of steel and smoke, the low hum of electronics cutting through the storm outside.
Dave shrugged out of his coat, hung it by the door, and crossed to stand behind the desk.
Stone took his place at his side, the rest of the team closing in around the room.
Viper shoved Titus into a chair, the man’s cuffed wrists grinding against the wood.
Law rifled through Titus’s jacket, pulling a worn leather wallet. A photo slipped free—creased, edges nearly torn through. Three boys stared out.
Law sent it across the space with a flick of his wrist. The photo fluttered once before Dave caught it and turned it over in his hands.
The three men were identical. Titus, Tatum, Tanis. Smiling, arms draped around shoulders. Frozen before blood and betrayal.
Stone leaned in close. “Christ. We knew they were triplets, but they all look just like Tanis.”
“Identical triplets?” Winter said, taking a peek at the photo.
Dave passed the photo to Viper, who stared at it like a man staring down a ghost.
“This is what I’ve been telling you,” Titus rasped, blood on his teeth but voice steady. “I’m not the one who stabbed you in San Pedro. That was my brother.”
Viper’s jaw ticked, but he didn’t answer.
Dave flicked a glance at Sage. “Run a full background and prints. Every brother, every alias. I want confirmation yesterday.”
