Calm.
Controlled.
Dangerous.
I swallow slightly.
“Yeah,” I murmur. “Something tells me Voss isn’t having a great night.”
Moose shifts slightly against my leg while Daisy sighs softly beside me.
The quiet stretches out around us again.
“You guys think I screwed that up?” I ask finally.
Three pairs of eyes stare up at me.
“Don’t answer that,” I mutter quickly.
Moose’s tail thumps anyway.
“Traitors,” I sigh again.
But despite the words, my hand keeps moving through their fur while the house settles around us.
And for the first time since Cole walked out my front door earlier that day, I let myself sit there in the quiet and admit something I’ve been trying really hard not to think about.
The house didn’t feel this empty before he showed up.
And now that he’s gone…It feels like something important walked out that door with him.
NINETEEN
GHOST
The warehouse sitsat the far edge of the industrial yard like something that got built twenty years ago and forgotten about shortly after. Corrugated metal siding. A loading dock light that flickers every few seconds like it’s struggling to stay alive. A gravel lot wide enough for trucks that aren’t here tonight. Just two beat-up SUVs parked near the front doors and a line of dark windows staring out across the empty yard.
Riot’s intel was right. Not that I ever doubted him.
My bike idles quietly behind the tree line a hundred yards away while the rest of the Iron Reapers settle into their positions in the dark. The air smells like damp dirt and old oil drifting from the yard. Rev crouches beside me, one knee pressed into the grass while he checks the magazine in his pistol with the kind of calm focus that comes from doing this long enough it feels like muscle memory.
“You sure this is the place?” he asks quietly, though the question sounds more like habit than doubt.
I keep my eyes on the warehouse door. “Riot confirmed it twice.”
Rev glances toward the building again, then back to me, reading my expression like he’s trying to decide just how far gone my patience is tonight.
“Four guys inside plus Voss,” he murmurs.
“Five,” I correct.
He smirks faintly. “Good thing we didn’t send you in alone.”
Behind us two more Reapers move through the brush toward the back corner of the warehouse, boots barely making a sound against the dirt. Riot’s truck sits farther back along the road with the laptop glow faint against the windshield. He’s already inside their security cameras. Has been for twenty minutes.
Which means every camera inside that building is looping empty footage right now.
The men inside have no idea they’re already ghosts.
