Behind him I can see what looks like a warehouse—industrial lighting, concrete walls, the kind of space we use for operations that need privacy. There’s movement in the background, shadows shifting.
“Are you okay?” I ask, drinking in the sight of him. “All of you?”
“We’re fine.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Tired as hell, but fine. Silas is handling cleanup right now, and Jace is—” He glances over his shoulder. “—micromanaging him as usual.”
I hear it then—Jace’s voice in the background, slightly muffled but unmistakable. “Silas, for fuck’s sake, we need that north corner spotless?—”
“I know what I’m doing—” Silas’s voice, irritated and sharp.
The sound of them bickering makes something in my chest loosen. They’re okay. They’re all okay.
“What happened?” I ask. “Did you find them?”
“Yeah.” Cal’s expression darkens. “We found them. Ryan and Aria. They won’t be a problem anymore.”
“They’re—”
“Handled.” The single word is final, absolute. “Aria talked before—well, before Silas finished. Gave us everything. The network they built, who they recruited, where they were getting their intel. We’ve been cleaning it up for the past two days.”
“That’s why you haven’t called,” I realize.
“That’s why I haven’t called.” He looks guilty. “I’m sorry, angel. I know you wanted updates, but we’ve been neck-deep in cleanup and I didn’t want to call until we had something definitive.”
“Cal.” I lean forward slightly, lowering my voice even though Mom has moved away to give me privacy. “You’re sure? They’re really gone? This is over?”
“It’s over,” he confirms. “Ryan and Aria won’t threaten you or the boys again. Ever.”
I should probably feel something about that—guilt, maybe, or horror at what “handled” likely means. But all I feel is relief so profound it makes me dizzy.
“Hold on,” Cal says, glancing over his shoulder again. “Jace wants to say hi.”
The camera shifts—shaky, the connection glitching slightly as he turns it. I catch a brief glimpse of two figures in the background of the warehouse, both moving, working. The image is blurry, the lighting harsh, but I can make out the shapes of them.
Jace’s voice comes clearer now, closer to the phone. “Hey, angel.”
“Jace.” I smile despite everything. “You okay?”
“Tired. Covered in—” He stops. “Let’s just say Silas wasn’t exaggerating about the cleanup. But we’re okay. All of us.”
“The boys miss you,” I say. “They keep asking when you’re coming to visit.”
“Soon.” There’s warmth in his voice. “We miss you too. Miss them. This—” The connection crackles. “—taking longer than we thought.”
“Jace? You’re breaking up.”
The camera swings back to Cal, his face clearer now. “Battery’s dying,” he explains. “Let me make this quick before we lose connection entirely.”
“Okay.”
“Charles wants us in Asheville tomorrow.” Cal’s tone shifts to business. “Mountain territory quarterly check-in. It’s routine but it’s important—the families up there like to see faces, make sure they’re still valued.”
I nod. I’ve heard about these meetings—the careful political dance of maintaining alliances with the various territorial families throughout the region.
“And he wants you there,” Cal continues.
I blink. “Me?”
“Yeah. Says it’s good optics—new generation, fresh face, Parker Carter back in the fold. Shows we’re evolving, not just the same old guard.” He pauses. “Plus, honestly? We could use you there. These mountain families respect strength. They’ll respect you.”
