I turn the shower on and let the steam bank up. The mirror fogs. For a minute, with the water drumming and the white-noise hush under it, I let myself breathe like I’m not borrowing someone else’s air.
When I step under the spray, the heat needles my scalp and the sore place at my neck howls, then settles to a manageable throb. I tip my face into the water and finally, finally, the ship rinses out of my ears and off my skin.
When I come back into the room, towel wrapped around me, hair dripping, the chair closest to the door is empty save for a folded hoodie and a phone. The hallway is quiet. Conrad sits on the floor outside, back to the wall, knees up, hands loose, eyes closed—not sleeping. Guarding.
“I have toast,” Maverick yells from the kitchen, like a benediction.
I smile—small, real. “Give me just a minute.”
And then we can talk about the man with clean shoes. And then we can talk about the rules. And then—after I eat something that isn’t fear—we can talk about the fact that I’m still here.
Maybe then… maybe after all that I can make the nightmares go away.
14
Atticus
The more Ilearn about Danner and his bullshit, the happier I am that the bastard is dead and I don’t have to handle him myself.
But the ‘fastidious’ man in the ‘neat’ clothing and the clean shoes—the one Phoenix described with that small tremor she tried to hide—that man is still out there.
The Broker.
He’s not the kind of man who gets his hands dirty. He has minions for that, men who will take the fall and the blame if something goes sideways. I have no doubt that when he heard the gunfire and saw men dropping the night of Phoenix’s rescue, he had a rescue hatch, and he took it.
Like rats in a sewer, they always find their way to the top when it floods.
Phoenix also told us, when she emerged from her shower, how Danner had explained the hierarchy of things to her. There was him, then there was the Broker, and then there was someone else the Broker answered to.
That’s who we need to find. I mean…we need to find both of them, obviously, but it does us no good to only put the Broker in a grave.
Both of the motherfuckers need to die.
Storm leans against the bar counter in the den, arms crossed over his chest, watching me pace. “Say it,” he orders quietly. “Whatever it is that’s got you tweaking right now.”
Maverick and Con are sprawled on the couch, half-paying attention to some crime show on TV.
“So now we know without doubt,” I say, “that Danner didn’t have the brains or the access to do this alone. The cameras weren’t cut for him. Someone inside helped—and someone above him ordered it.”
Conrad’s jaw ticks. “We know it’s someone in Security. We just need to figure out who. And from what Phoenix told us, they’re working for this guy…The Broker. And the Broker is working for someone else.”
Maverick lets out a low whistle. “Right, which means we’re not just cleaning up Danner’s mess with all these girls and Phoenix. We’re in a different league altogether. We’re up against an entire world that we have no clue about or how to maneuver in.”
“Exactly.” I pull a fresh page from the pad and start mapping connections—timelines, access points, names, debts, everything that links when you stare long enough. “Danner wasn’t smart enough to orchestrate any of this. He was a tool. Disposable. Someone used him to gain proximity, to get close.”
Storm frowns. “Close to what? Us? Her? What was—is—the end goal here? Because nothing is finished.”
“Well,” I say. “Her father undoubtedly knew men like Danner. Men who work both sides of the law. Men who collect debts for people who don’t want to be seen and want their money to buy their entrance into our world. So he would have been a starting point.”
Silence settles, heavy and knowing, surrounding us until there’s nothing left but the weight of my implication.
Conrad’s stare cuts through it. “You think all of this ties back to him and Phoenix.”
“Absolutely it does.” I tap the pen on the paper. “We all watched the video. Her father didn’t just fail her—he sold her. Sold her to pay back debts he never intended to repay.”
Maverick scrubs a hand down his face. “So we’re not just dealing with random skeezy criminals. We’re dealing with whoever bought the debt. Whoever expected delivery.”
Storm’s voice drops. “And Danner was just the delivery boy.”
