“Good,” he says.
“Because war’s coming.”
They killed my family without a second thought. Tony’s sat at my parents’ table… Sunday dinners, holidays… all of it. And the whole damn time, they were playing me.
Turbo turns the laptop back toward himself, jaw tight as his fingers fly across the keys. “We’ve got enough to bury Herrera and Tony six feet under if we play it clean. But if we move sloppy, they’ll smell it. And the Syndicate doesn’t do warnings, they do bodies.”
A cold knot twists in my gut. “So what’s the plan?”
Maverick’s stare cuts to me, razor-sharp. “First thing… you stay hidden. No contact with your precinct. No calls, no texts, no fucking breadcrumbs. You’re a ghost until I say different. If Herrera or Tony think you’re still in play, they’ll keep their guard down. “If they get even a whiff that you’re onto them, they’ll tapevery Syndicate contact they’ve got to hunt you down and finish what they started with your family.”
I swallow hard, the reality sinking in. “And you?”
He smirks… cold, humorless. “We dig. Turbo keeps ripping through their financials and comms until we find the vein that makes them bleed. Every cartel’s got a pressure point. We find it, we crush it.
Malcolm’s voice rumbles beside me. “And when we hit, we hit like a sledgehammer. No second chances.”
Maverick nods. “Damn right. But hear me, Londyn… once we move, there’s no walking this back. You’ll have a mark on your head. The Mendaros don’t forget or forgive.”
The words slice deep, but there’s no fear left in me… just rage, loss, and a fire I didn’t have a week ago. “I’ve already had everything taken from me. There’s nothing left for them to threaten.”
Maverick leans forward, eyes locked on mine, voice low and final. “Then saddle up, sweetheart. We’re going to burn these fuckers to the ground.”
On that note, the meeting ends, Maverick’s words still ringing in my head…war’s coming. Malcolm squeezes my hand once before letting go.
“Go on. Get some air while we work some of this shit out,” he says, brushing his lips against mine. Quick, rough, distracting as hell.
“Way to make this even more complicated, Night,” Mav calls out, shaking his head like he’s already over us both.
To irritate him further, Malcolm smacks my ass as I turn to leave, a sharp crack that startles a laugh out of me… small, but real. It barely lasts a second.
Because the second I step out of that office, everything hits me again. Hard.
Turbo’s revelations keep looping in my head. Herrera tied by blood to the Syndicate. Tony tied by blood and feeding them intel. Every step I took watched, and handed over.
My partner.
My captain.
People who I thought were family.
Playing my ass like a damn fiddle, and I never saw it. I’m a fucking detective, and this shit slid right over my head.
My whole damn world, once again, flipped inside out in one morning.
I’m halfway down the hall when I collide with someone. She steadies me with a hand on my arm.
“Sorry,” I mutter, pulling back.
She smiles, soft but confident. Long dark hair falls in waves over her shoulders, hazel eyes sharp and mysterious. Petite frame, curves that make her look both delicate and dangerous. She’s stunning. The kind of beauty who turns heads without trying.
“I’m Lisa,” she says, voice warm. “Steel’s ol’ lady.”
Malcolm gave me the rundown on a few of the brothers. Some of these psychos are actually married. Steel’s the one who surprised me the most. Hard-assed, mean-mugged son of a bitch… and somehow this spitfire’s got a leash on him.
She studies me for a beat. “My husband told me what happened to your family. I’m so sorry, Londyn.”
The words sting, but they land gentle. I nod. “Thank you.”
