War had been declared tonight. Not with speeches or proclamations, but with blood on concrete and fire in the streets.
Jaeger stood to greet him, rising from his usual table in the corner like a specter from the shadows. His weathered face betrayed nothing, but his eyes—those cold gray eyes that had seen more violence than Jameson would ever know—gleamedwith pride.
“Welcome to the revolution, brother,” Jaeger said, hand stretching toward Jameson. He took it, wrapping is bloody fingers around Jaeger’s.
Jameson said nothing as he shook it. Words felt inadequate, trivial against the weight of what he’d just done, what he was prepared to do. The bartender set a full bottle of whiskey before him instead of the usual glass. Jameson uncorked it, took a long pull directly from the neck, and let the burn cleanse the taste of blood from his mouth.
When he finally spoke, his voice was raw, stripped of everything but his anger. “They sent a convoy into the Boundary.”
Jaeger nodded once, sharply. “I know, my men saw you handle it.”
“When do we move?”
“Soon.” Jaeger gestured to the table where several of his men stood looking over the maps and diagrams spread out on its surface. “Sit.”
Jameson ignored the command and instead took another long pull as the door opened at his back. He turned, watching weapons appear across the room as if by magic—guns, knives, garrotes all trained on the newcomer.
Captain Mikel stepped into the bar, his face grim but unsurprised by the reception. His Veyra uniform was spotless, a stark contrast to the blood covering Jameson.
“Stand down,” Jaeger ordered, his voice cutting through the tension. “He’s with us.”
Weapons lowered reluctantly, but remained visible, a reminder that trust was a luxury extended to Mikel that could be snatched back at any moment. Mikel moved to join their table, keeping a careful distance from Jameson as he sat.
Kestrel Farrow entered the bar from the back door, emerging from the shadows as she quietly cut off a phone call, and slid her tablet into a pocket, then smiled at them. “Hello, boys,” she drawled, nodding toward the bartender for a drink. “You ready to fuck up the Heart?”
Jameson’s brow furrowed, looking between her and Mikel. “You already knew he was a part of this?”
“There are a lot of things I know that you don’t, Vine,” she said, casually sitting and pushing her chair back onto its hind legs. “The Cardinal rebellion plays a different role than yours, being so close to the Heart.”
He ignored the slight jab. “Well then, let’s get started. Tell me everything I don’t fucking know.”
Farrow shook her head, a lock of golden hair falling across her sharp features. “We need to wait for the others. We only discuss this once.”
“What others?” Jameson demanded, frustration now bleeding into his voice.
“Him,” Jaeger said, a twisted smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he gestured toward the door.
Jameson turned slowly, the hairs on the back of his neck standing as his eyes connected with Callum Thane, the Broker. His gun was drawn in an instant, barrel pointed at the center of his head. Farrow’s sharp gasp echoed in the space behind him as Lira Serel stepped into view,maskless.
Lirafrozeinthedoorway of Wolf’s Head, her hand hovering over the gun strapped to her thigh. She knew exactly who each of the eyes focused on her belonged to from the surveillance she’d done over the years for the media, but her sight narrowed to a single point—Captain Mikel in his pristine Veyra uniform, sitting among the rebels like he belonged there.
The bar fell silent. Even the dim neon lights seemed to hold their breath, casting colors across features hardened by years of Boundary survival. Blood decorated Jameson’s face like war paint, his clothing soaked in darker stains. She recognized the look in his eyes—the same wild fury she’d seen in her own reflection after she’d put a bullet in Marcus Webb’s head only hours ago.
Callum shifted slightly, positioning his body between her and Jameson’s gun. The gesture was so subtle, so instinctive, that Lira doubted he was even aware of it.
“I advise you point that thing away from me,” Callum said, nodding to the gun trained on his head. His hands remained visible, relaxed at his sides, but Lira knew how quickly those hands could produce a weapon of their own.
No one moved. The tension pulled tighter, an invisible wire about to snap.
Callum broke the silence again with a low chuckle that somehow made the air in the room even heavier. “Well, well, I’m more shocked every day by the traitors you’re collecting, Jaeger.” His eyes flicked briefly to Mikel. “Tell me, does the Veyra Captain still have the President’s tracking device under his skin, or did you cut that out before letting him in on all your secrets?”
Mikel’s hand unconsciously moved to his forearm where Lira knew all high-ranking Veyra officers were implanted with trackers. The gesture was confirmation enough.
“He’s clean,” Jaeger answered. “All of my people are clean.”
“Your people,” Jameson spat, gun still trained on Callum. “Since when did Heart aristocracy become your people, Jaeger?”
“Since they proved more useful than your emotional outbursts,” a new voice cut in. “Put down the gun, Jameson.”
