My arm was looped through Mickey’s as we stood on the tarmac facing Halden’s compound, and the sight of it tore through me. I hadn’t seen the place in months, but that didn’t matter. It was there in my muscle memory, haunting me like a fucking plague. I let my gaze drift along the perimeter, slow and careful, catching movement where the trees thickened and shadow swallowed shape. I knew what I was seeing even if I didn’t look too hard at it. Creed. Thorne. Kane. Rafe. The Ravens. All of them moving exactly where they were meant to, unloading the bomb with quiet efficiency while I stood there pretending that place hadn’t once broken me down to nothing.
I drew in a breath and felt it stall in my chest, my lungs tightening. My heels clicked against the concrete as we started forward. I tapped my cane lightly from side to side, forcing my hands to stay steady, reminding myself that this time I wasn’t alone and I wasn’t powerless, even if every instinct in my body was screaming to run.
The soldiers noticed us immediately. I felt it in the shift of attention, the subtle movements that followed as rifles were adjusted and grips tightened. Mickey stopped us just short of the entrance, his arm firm around mine, his presence changing so completely it almost startled me. Whatever warmth he usually carried was gone, replaced by something cold and impatient. He looked like a Buyer now. Sounded like one too. His voice carried as he gave our names, sharp with irritation, “Jared Russo and Estella Harris.” His hand tightened at my arm, not unkindly, but with authority, reminding me of the role I was meant to play. I stayed quiet, compliant, letting my weight rest against him like I needed the support.
The guard radioed in our names. There was a pause that stretched just long enough to scrape at my nerves, and then the doors began to open. I’d spent weeks wanting to set something on fire, wanting the release of watching destruction take shape, and standing there, all I could think about was how easily that place would burn. Somewhere deeper inside the compound, past halls I could still walk blindfolded if I had to, soldiers were checking in for the day. That was where the others were now, dressed in matching gear, fake IDs ready, rifles slung over their shoulders and the bomb in pieces among their gear. They’d have to get inside, get to the fitness room that held The Tank—a room that based on Alexander’s schematics was in the very center of the compound—and layout the pieces of the bomb. No alarms were ringing which told me they were likely already inside, and the thought settled me. This wasn’t a return. It was an invasion.
We were led into the same grand space where Creed had first met Halden, and the familiarity of it made my jaw tighten. I didn’t have to look up to know he was there in his fucking balcony. Halden leaned over the railing, watching us, and then started down the steps with that same slow, indulgent confidence. He looked exactly like he always had. Polished.Smug. A cigar burning between his fingers as he sized Mickey up and down without bothering to acknowledge me at all.
“Cousin to Alexander, correct?” he asked, his eyes flicking over Mickey’s face, his tone conversational. “I didn’t know Harris had Italian lineage.”
“He doesn’t,” Mickey said easily, shaking Halden’s hand. “Not directly. We’re twice removed. Our fathers stayed close through business.” Mickey smiled then, that familiar grin sharpened into something edged with ego, and he glanced down at me like I was an inconvenience he’d been saddled with. “I’ve been told you breed them feisty,” he added. “I don’t want anything like this bore. I’ve had to babysit her all day, so forgive the lack of…everything.”
I kept my posture loose as Halden finally looked at me. Smoke curled from his mouth as his expression narrowed slightly. “Blind?” he asked.
“Alexander prefers them feeble after the Creed mishap,” Mickey said.
Halden stiffened. Anger flashed across his face before he smoothed it away. “Yes,” he said. “That.”
I stayed still, letting the lie hold. To Halden, Creed had vanished before Alexander ever got what he paid for. Alexander was the injured party. The one who’d been wronged.
“Thatcost us billions,” Mickey said coolly. “We expect full repayment today.”
Halden finally looked away from me, his attention snapping back to Mickey as he forced a wide smile. “You won’t be disappointed,” he said, turning toward the interior of the compound. “Follow me.”
“Since Creed, I personally bought eight new prospects,” Halden explained as he walked us down white hallways without a glance back. I gritted my teeth when he waved his hand, ash tumbling from his cigar. “Only two have made it through the testing phase, but they’re strong. They still need some time before they’re up to par.”
“We don’t have time,” Mickey told him. “We had a reason for buying Creed, and we’ve already waited for your next batch long enough.”
That annoyed Halden, his eyes dark with frustration when he pulled open a door I didn’t recognize and revealed a dimly lit seating area. “Perfection takes time,” he said.
“Do they kill?” Mickey asserted.
Halden ground out his cigar in an ashtray and moved to a large set of curtains across the wall. He hit a button beside them and they pulled open. “Of course they kill, but—”
“Then we’ll take them. As I said, we don’t have time,” Mickey said. He pulled out his phone, still holding a bored expression.
Halden looked intent on arguing. “They’re more expensive than Creed.”
“I thought you just said they’re an unfinished product?”
“Well—”
Mickey jammed his phone back in his pocket and stared down at Halden. It was surreal seeingHaldencower, and an immense sense of pride filled my chest. “This isn’t a fuckingnegotiation. This isyourrepayment foryourfuck up. You lost our investment, and you will be paying it back. In full. Today. Both assets you have are now ours. Am I understood, or should I contact my connections within the syndicate to ensure your status as a Top Seller is removed?”
Halden was biting his tongue. I could tell in the way he clasped his hands in front of him and jutted his chin toward the window revealed behind the curtains. “There will be no need for such action, Mr. Russo. Would you like to survey your purchase, at least?”
My eyes darted out the window. There, dressed in tactical gear, was a very familiar blond, except all her pretty hair was shaved away. Her cheeks were gaunt, her eyes—so like Alexanders’—completely hollowed out. She stood in The Yard with one other girl, both of them being berated by a commander not to drop their guns.
“Both women?” Mickey said with disdain.
“I can assure you they’re capable assets,” Halden said. “Florence has been exceptional in endurance training, while Grace has a knack for intelligence. Both are relatively untouched too. Virgins—hymens intact as Alexander requested. That’s a rarity for Assets. It was quite difficult to find within the typical pools to buy from, so I got creative pulling from the upper levels. Florence was a teacher among assets; Grace, too.”
So much relief poured through me at those words. It meant that Florence and Grace had never seen the inside of Room 82, that at least that part of the compound’s horrors never reached them.
“Good,” Mickey managed, his grip on me tight. He squeezed my arm gently, and my eyes skirted to the clock on the far wall. It was time. Carefully, I pressed onto my toes and pretended to whisper in his ear. He sighed dramatically and glared down at me. “I took you before we came.”
I shifted, trying to make myself look uncomfortable.
