Niko’s face became a wash of color.“Look, I-I’m sorry, sir, I should not have spoken to you like that, and Kael is right, he did raise me, hell all of us, better than that.It was just the shock of hearing that the man I lo—I know is living here.”
Dev crossed his arms.“I get that, which is why you can still breathe through your nose.The short answer, Niko, is that he has a story to tell, but he is the one to tell it.You want those answers, reach out.Simple as that.Now, I’m going to my room to call my Finn, and hear all the gossip of what is happening back home.”
The room was silent as the man walked across to one of the doors at the far side of the warehouse.When he stepped through it and closed it behind him, the rest of them exhaled.
“Christ, that man is a fucking walking Alpha with a shot of Beserker thrown in,” Oren said as he pretended to slump against the kitchen counter.
“He certainly knows how to hold the attention of everyone in a room,” Kai said with a soft laugh, then he turned back to Surge.“What about the mansion?How the hell are they passing that off to the world?”
Surge gave a short laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw.“Police are calling it a gang war.Works for us.Keeps the heat off our backs.”
By the time dusk rolled in, the smell of food filled the warehouse.The kitchen setup was nothing fancy—industrial counters, mismatched pots and pans, and a couple of battered stoves against the far wall—but the way they used it tonight gave the cavernous warehouse a homely feel.Hogan, Kai, Oren, and Dale commandeered the space, chopping vegetables at the scarred wooden prep table, stirring pots that hissed with steam, and grilling meat on an old cast-iron pan.The clatter of utensils and the hiss of oil filled the air, mingling with the smell of garlic and spices.For the first time in days, it smelled like comfort, like family.They were throwing together choices—a lamb curry, a chicken and pesto pasta, and grilled steaks, chicken, and fish served with salads and homemade bread.Ty lingered close, and Hogan noted the way both Oren and Dale hovered near him like shadows.Couldn’t blame them.After last night, no one wanted to risk being apart.
Plates clattered, laughter sparked, and they all sat down at long tables.Surge was the one to break the quiet that fell between bites.“Tell me about the Ridge.”
Bateman glanced at his men, then leaned back.“The Ridge is home.Built it after too many years in the wind.It’s a place for vets, a place to breathe, a place to train and innovate.Doesn’t fix everything, but it gives us a shot.”
Dale nodded.“We’ve got training facilities, family housing, a therapy wing.It’s a place where you can stop running.”
Ricky grinned.“And decent food.Don’t forget that.”
Dev chimed in after, speaking of Cottonwood Farm.“Bravo’s version of the Ridge.Horses, wide open spaces.Healing in the dirt under your fingernails.We’ve also built shooting ranges and partnered with training agencies so our clients can sharpen their skills as snipers and as better law enforcement officers.It works.”
Surge chewed slowly, then said, “Black Tide needs that.We need a home.Not just a garage where we work and crash.”
Luca nodded.“The garage was a place to sleep.It wasn’t a home.”
Surge accepted that with no argument.His gaze traveled around the table.“So, what do we want?What do we build?”
Niko leaned back, eyes hooded.“A place where we can settle down.Find people who could love us or at least put up with us.Somewhere to build something worth defending.”
Silence fell for a beat, the weight of his words hitting harder than gunfire.Hogan felt the shift in the air, the sense that they were teetering on the edge of something bigger than just another fight.He thought of the Pathfinders, of Bravo, of the way they’d clawed their way to the same conclusion years back, after losing Van and nearly losing themselves.They’d found their loves, their homes, their future.
Looking around the table at Kai, at his brothers, at the fire smoldering in every man’s eye, Hogan knew Black Tide was standing at the same crossroads.Food for thought tonight.A decision for tomorrow.
****
The rain came heavy, pattering against the roof of the van, turning the world outside into a steady rush of sound.The waterfall was a muted roar beneath it all, nature’s heartbeat.Inside, the van was warm, and dimly lit.They were tangled in sheets, skin still heated from the way they’d just claimed each other.Hogan’s arm was across Kai’s chest, his thumb brushing slow patterns against his skin like he wasn’t ready to let go.
For a while, they just lay there listening.Kai’s body was heavy, his side pulling where the staples tugged, but it was a good ache.The kind that said he was alive.He could feel Hogan’s breathing slow against him, steady and protective.
It was Hogan who broke the silence.“Tell me about Black Tide.”His voice was quiet, but not casual.It carried the weight of an order, softened only by the rough edge of curiosity.
Kai kept his gaze on the roof.“You want the polished version, or the truth?”
“Truth,” Hogan said, no hesitation.“But first, tell me this—did I know what you are about to tell me before Chechnya?”
Kai sighed.“No.You knew we ran missions, but there is a piece of Black Tide that you do not know.I am giving that to you for the first time tonight.”
Hogan frowned, pulling him tighter against his chest.“Why tonight?”
Kai turned to look at him in the muted light.“Because I love you, and because when I walked away from you two years ago, I did so with a shitload of regrets, And I promised myself that if we ever made it back to this, to us?I would answer any question you had honestly and would hold nothing back about myself.”
Hogan smiled, the one he only ever gave to Kai.“I make that same vow to you, Rip.”
Kai kissed him gently then sighed, wiping a hand down his face.“Black Tide isn’t just about custom vans or kitted-out rigs.That’s the storefront.What we really are ...we’re mercenaries like Pathfinders but also guns for hire.And here’s the new piece—we are assassins for hire when the contract demands it.”He glanced at Hogan, watching for the flicker of judgment, but Hogan’s face stayed carved in stone.
“Each of us has a kill count higher than most career soldiers.We’ve taken jobs from alphabet agencies, foreign governments, corporations too rich to get their hands dirty themselves.We make a lot of money doing it.More than we could spend in a lifetime.”
