Oren’s lips pressed into a thin line, but some of the tension left his shoulders.“All right.Together, then.”
Dale’s hand landed on the counter with quiet finality.“Together.Always.”
The silence stretched, weighted with all the things none of them had dared put into words.Ty cleared his throat, the words clawing their way out of him before he could stop them.“When the build’s done ...what happens to us?”His voice was quieter than he intended, but it carried.
Oren’s hand found his under the table, warm and grounding.“It should mean the start of something, not the end,” he murmured, giving Ty’s fingers a squeeze.
Dale glanced between them, his eyes softening, the hard line of his shoulders easing for the first time that morning.“Hell, you think I put in a custom bed big enough for the three of us just for the project’s duration?”His mouth curved with a wry half-smile, though there was more behind it—hope, stubborn and unshakable.
Ty huffed a laugh despite the knot in his chest.“Guess I should’ve known you weren’t the type to plan short-term.”
“Once the project is finished and the therapy wing is operational,” Dale said, voice steady, “we decide our next move.Together.No matter what comes.”
Dale glanced between them, a steady heat in his chest.“This is our line of departure.”
Ty’s brow furrowed for a beat.“That’s the step-off point, right?Where the mission officially begins.”
Oren’s grip tightened on both of them, his voice low but certain.“Means we don’t cross it until we’re ready—and once we do, there’s no turning back.”
Ty’s hand found Oren’s, Oren’s found Dale’s.Three grips, one promise.
They didn’t hesitate.Together, they stepped off.
****
Carson crouched ina makeshift camp on the Ridge’s edge, the flicker of a small, smokeless fire dying to embers.He’d slipped out of the barracks before dawn, leaving only the message sprayed across the wall for Oren to find.He could picture it now, Oren’s face twisting as he read it—rage, confusion, fear.All of it good.All of it deserved.
He kept low, careful to stay outside the sweep of the cameras he’d mapped out over the past week.He knew where every blind spot was.Knew how to watch without being seen.The drones that buzzed overhead sometimes weren’t his—he wasn’t sure whose eyes they belonged to—but that only sharpened his edge.If others were circling, it meant the game was bigger than he thought.
Carson dragged a knife across a whetstone, slow and steady, imagining it was Oren’s throat.Hatred simmered in him, molten and constant.Oren had stolen too much from him already—blood, family, years swallowed by grief and rage.Now it was time to take it all back.
He leaned back against the shadows of the trees, lips curling into a grin.“Soon,” he muttered to the night.“Soon you’ll break, Oren.And I’ll be there to watch every second of it.”
Chapter Eight
Dale worked the baguntil his shoulders burned and his knuckles hummed.The gym was quiet this time of day, when the sun had yet to lift above the horizon—fans turning slow, the sharp tang of rubber floor and old chalk, a line of treadmills the color of a storm.He counted off the last set in his head and made himself stop.Too easy to chase the edge for no reason but the noise.
