Get your ass down here, Onyx.
I grunted under my breath. No “good morning.” No room to breathe. Just orders.
I slid my phone onto the nightstand and carefully untangled Elena’s limbs from mine. Her legs tightened instinctively, her face burrowing into my chest like her body refused to let go. I had to still for a moment—had to fight the urge to give in and stay wrapped around her until the world stopped spinning.
But that wasn’t an option. Not when her safety was on the line. Not when we were this close to pulling the thread that would unravel the entire fucked-up situation Marks had dragged her into unknowingly.
I kissed her temple, then eased out of bed, careful not to let the mattress shift too much. She didn’t stir again beyond a sleepy sigh and a little twitch of her fingers. I tucked the blanket around her hips and bent to grab my jeans, tugging them on. My shirt followed. My cut was the last thing I grabbed, slinging it over my shoulders and smoothing it down over my chest as I gave her one last look.
Even exhausted and worn out, she looked beautiful.
Hair mussed, skin flushed, mouth parted like she was still chasing the high I’d dragged out of her hours ago. All I couldthink was how fucking amazing she’d been. How pliant. Hungry. Perfectly mine.
I wouldn’t be gone long. Just a meeting. So I kissed her temple once more and left the room, intending to return shortly.
The compound was quiet as I made my way downstairs. Most of the guys were still in their rooms or just starting to stir. When I reached King’s office, the door was ajar, but I still knocked once before pushing it open.
Blaze stood at the corner of King’s desk, speaking quietly with the prez. Ace was lounging on one of the couches with his arms crossed, head tipped back, and eyes closed. Tomcat leaned against the wall near the bar, sipping a black coffee. And it was no surprise that Wizard was at the conference table with his laptop open, fingers flying over the keys, glaring as if the machine had personally insulted him.
King sat behind his desk, calm as ever. His big leather chair creaked when he leaned back and pinned me with an intense stare, his face wearing its ever-present scowl.
Tomcat glanced at the clock on the wall and gave me a slow smirk. “Damn, brother. Sun’s been up for a minute. You forget how to read a clock?”
Blaze snorted. “More like someone finally got laid and his legs were too weak to walk.”
I flipped him the bird as I pulled out a chair at the conference table and took a seat.
Ace didn’t even open his eyes. “Took you long enough. Thought we’d have to send a search party to pry you off her.”
“Would’ve lost volunteers real fucking fast,” Tomcat muttered. “No one’s interested in eating a bullet for seein’ something that doesn't belong to them.”
I lifted my chin at Tomcat in acknowledgment. He wasn’t wrong. Anyone who so much as glimpsed something that belonged only to me would find themselves shaking hands withthe devil the next time they blinked. Then I muttered, “You done gossiping?”
King raised a brow. “That depends. You good now?”
“Yeah.”
“Then all of you shut the fuck up and listen.”
Wizard turned his laptop and angled it toward me. “We’ve been working through the rest of the symbols you managed to get photos of from Elena’s sketch book. Comparing timestamps. Running them against surveillance reports. Club logs. Undercover files.”
He started to click through images. “This one shows up on a dead body we helped recover in Tallahassee four months ago. This was inked on the chest of a trafficking enforcer we helped burn down last spring. And this one was carved into a crate of biometric scanners found in an abandoned truck just outside Tampa.”
My chest tightened.
“These aren’t just identifiers,” Wizard continued. “They’re fucking strategies.”
Ace stepped in then. “The syndicate Elena’s mentor is tied to? They’ve been playing a long game. Quiet, surgical strikes. Not mass hits or scorched-earth tactics. They’re taking out key players—bookkeepers, tech contacts, men with deep loyalty and low profiles. The ones who hold an organization together from the shadows.”
Tomcat leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “They’re dismantling rival orgs like clockwork. One stroke at a time. By the time the top dogs even notice, their entire network’s bleeding out.”
Blaze tilted his head. “Fucks with their rebuild time. Takes ’em years to claw their way back, if they even try.”
The wizard clicked through another screen. “Marks isn’t just some artist. He’s fucking leadership. Embedded deep. Possiblyhead of the syndicate or at least a shot-caller. That charity board shit? Just a front.”
Ace added, “He’s laundering money through nonprofits and art sales. Shuffling it through shell companies and using donor databases to mask transfers.”
I stared at the screen, my jaw locked and pulse pounding. “So every tattoo she’s done for that bastard has been strategic. Placement, style, variant—each one meant to grant access or signal something to a rival group. She’s been branding his operatives.”
