He headed straight for the barracks where the construction crews were housed.It was a modest, single-level block lined with narrow rooms and shared facilities.The kind of place built for function over comfort.
Dale spotted Ty striding to the same building from the other side of the Ridge.
“What brings you over here?”Ty said dryly, when the two met at the entrance to the barracks.“I highly doubt that you’re looking to sign on with the crew.”
“I saw your face.Knew you’d be coming.”Dale stopped beside him.“And in all honesty, I want to make that fucker bleed, too.Let’s send him off in style.”
They pushed into the barracks, heading down the corridor toward Carson’s room.The door was open, and they stepped inside.
“Shit,” Ty muttered.
The bed was empty, stripped, nothing but mattress and frame.His gear gone.What caught Dale’s eye was the wall—fresh black spray paint that still dripped and glistening under the overhead bulb.A message scrawled in thick, angry letters directly onto the cinderblock:
This is far from over, Oren.Some debts don’t get forgiven.
Dale stepped closer, staring at the words as his jaw clenched.The room was devoid of personal items, Carson already long gone.
“That son of a bitch,” Ty growled.“He left this like some kind of calling card.”
Dale nodded slowly.“This just got a hell of a lot more personal.”
Outside, the sun dipped low over the Ridge, casting long shadows over the ground.And both men knew—whatever was coming next, it was already in motion.
Chapter Seven
Oren woke alone inthe bed he’d come to think of as theirs, and the cold stretch of sheets beside him was more jarring than he expected.He wasn’t used to waking without the warmth of Ty pressed close or the protective weight of Dale’s arm slung across his middle.
They had enjoyed another great night together last night and talked about that sweet little love note Oren had left for him.He had no idea what it meant, but he would certainly be on his guard from now on.Hell, even more so because of Dale and Ty.Which made him think of his two men, and he was struck with the sudden need to know they were safe.Throwing off the covers he dressed quickly and left the suite.
The early morning air outside bit at his skin, carrying the scent of dew-damp pine.He knew exactly where they would be.Especially Ty.The gym lights glowed gold through the tall windows, and the rhythmic thud of fists and grunts echoed faintly.
He pushed the door open and stepped inside, heart already tightening at what he saw.
Ty and Dale were on the sparring mat, their hands wrapped and gloved—not bare-knuckled this time, but the gloves were thin enough that he knew they would feel every hit.They were locked in a sparring match that pushed both of them, sweat slicking their skin, the sound of fists meeting flesh echoing through the space.Ty moved like a man trying to outrun fire, every strike laced with too much fury, each dodge just a fraction too desperate.Dale, grinning and laser-focused, matched him beat for beat, not yet recognizing the fine line Ty was walking between control and collapse.
Oren stepped closer, arms folding across his chest.He knew that look in Ty’s eyes.He’d seen it on men too close to the edge.Dale couldn’t see it—not yet.He was caught in the rhythm, enjoying the challenge, the fire, the tension.But Oren saw the storm brewing beneath it all.
