“I’m not sure of anything,” I admit, “But if Cross knows something, I’ll pry it out of him.”
“You think he’ll give it up just ‘cause you ask?” Riot snaps.
“I don’t plan on asking.”
The noise in my head drowns out the voices around me. I feel the weight of their eyes. I feel their uncertainty, their rage, but I also feel something deeper. Something I haven’t let myself admit. I’ve been dancing the line between survival and fight for too long. But I swear on everything I’ve bled for. Whoever did this? They’re about to meet the wrong kind of storm.
I turn and look at Amber again. She’s propped up on the couch, half-conscious, her skin pale and bruised. I reach down and brush a strand of hair from her bruised face.
I want to fight back. My whole body hums for it. To get on my bike and ride until I find Dante and rip the truth out of his mouth.
Quinn steps in before the fire in me boils over. “Everyone stays put until we know who we’re dealing with.”
I grind my teeth. She’s right. As much as it kills me, rage without strategy is just noise. And we’re past noise now.
Amber didn’t just end up in Dante’s ring, someone delivered her to our doorstep like a fucking message. This goes deeper.And if I make the wrong move now, I’ll walk us right into an ambush.
So I stay. I pace. I plan. I sharpen the blades and burn the names into the back of my skull. Because the storm’s coming and when it hits, I want to know exactly where to aim it.
4
DANTE
The pier is dead quiet this time of night, just the groan of waves and the wind cutting through warped wood. Fog rolls in off the water, thick and cold, curling around the rusted hulls of boats that haven’t seen the deep end of the ocean in years. It feels like the city erased this place from memory. Which is exactly why I picked it.
I lean against the rail with a cigarette burning low between my fingers, the cherry pulsing like a warning with each slow drag. Brick’s late, and I don’t like waiting. It makes my skin itch. I scan the shadows again, the creak of boards echoing too loud in my head, my muscles tight with the kind of tension that crawls up your spine and lingers there.
I take another drag, checking the time again. Five minutes later, I hear boots crunch sand and grit as Brick approaches from the far end of the dock. He has a dark hoodie pulled up over his shaved head and hung tight over his tall, broad frame. His walk’s different tonight. Slower, hesitant, glancing over his shoulder. That alone tells me things are worse than I think before he even opens his mouth.
“Tell me,” I say, straightening up.
Brick pulls his hood back, his jaw clenched tight. He doesn’t say anything for a long beat. Then with a slow draw he hits me with it, “It was Mikey.”
I go still.
Mikey is one of my runners. He never had the heart of a fighter but he’s fast, quiet, and until now, loyal. Or so I thought.
Brick spits chew to the side. “Sold schedules, and names to Serrano for five grand and protection.”
My jaw ticks hard. I toss the cigarette to the ground, grinding it beneath my heel.
“Protection from what?” I mutter.
Brick shrugs. “You.”
I scoff under my breath. He needs that protection cause I’m gonna kill him.
I stare out at the water, the pitch black surface churning under the moonlight. My fists tighten until my knuckles pop. Five grand. That’s all it took to turn a man who worked with me for years. To sacrifice everything I’ve built. Everyone I’ve built this for.
“Where is he now?”
Brick’s silent but shrugs.
I nod once. “Find him.”
Brick doesn’t flinch. He knew what to expect when he told me. I run my gym clean but I’m not a damn saint. There’s too many devils in the world to pretend any of us are anything less.
I turn back toward him. His heavy silence telling me there’s another bomb to drop. “What else?”
