“Talon.” He grinds my name. “We sent a message tonight.”
I hit end. Then I move. Before I change my mind.
I don’t love this girl. Not really. But I’ll be damned if she pays for the way I’m built. I’ve got enough ghosts in my head already. I don’t need her joining the bunch.
I leave the flat, take the stairs two at a time, and step into the evening. The cold bites hard, wind carrying a tang of river salt that settles on my boots. I cut through the street and down the back stairs to the alley where I parked my ride.
I need a lead.
Two guys… One big with a bad nose, one wiry with a rope scar.
Where do Rey’s boys stage their snatch-and-grabs?
Can’t be any of their main spots. Too obvious.
I search my brain for anything I ever heard about Rey’s boys and their kidnappings. There’s the shut-down bowling alley on Marrow they like to take people to. Then the mattress warehouse. And that old boxing gym on Ash—“closed for renovations” three years ago.
If it’s not one of those, I’ve got no fucking clue.
I start up the car and head for the bowling alley. The moment I cross the border, a chill runs down my spine. For years, coming here meant I might die. I learned to fear this place like second nature.
Seems only fitting that when I finally do come here, it’s because I choose to.
As my luck would have it, the bowling alley’s a dead end. I end up using the cash from that dealer kid to bribe some lady not to snitch that I even showed up. Then I jump back in the car and take off.
Ash Street is less than five minutes away. The gym is a brick box with a broken staircase and a roll-up door tagged with a crown over the word REY. A light glows in the office window upstairs. There’s a van out front, and the moment I see it, something in me knows it’s them.
I don’t knowhowI know. Call it intuition. But I’d bet my fucking pinky on it.
I park around the corner and walk the rest of the way with my hands in my jacket and my head down. When I reach the side alley, I see a metal door with a broken push bar. I can slip inside easily.
Lovely.
I step in.
The first thing I see is a heavy bag swinging slowly. Iron pipes cross the ceiling. Bleach bottles are scattered on the floor.
And there they are.
Beanie with a bad nose. Scar, with a rope-burn mark crawling up his neck like something that tried to strangle him and changed its mind halfway. There’s also a third guy with them, a face with a patchy beard and a boys’ club laugh.
They sit around a table under a single lamp, eating from a grease-stained bag and talking with their mouths full. A duffel bag rests on the floor beside the table, its zipper half open.
“Evening,” I say.
They go still. Beanie’s hand drops under the table. Scar’s eyes narrow and flick toward the side exit. Patchy’s chair scrapes.
“Who the fuck are you?” Scar asks.
I take a couple of steps forward, let the light find my face. Beanie’s mouth peels back in a grin that makes my teeth itch.
“Oh, it’syou,” he says. He thinks he knows me. I don’t know him. “You’re the one who started a fight with our boys.”
And just like that, I realize what is going on.
Those fuckers from last night sent their friends. Worse, they sent them on Rhea.
Yeah… I don’t care if I don’t make it out alive. I’m saving her.
