“We can do it,” she says.“But not without you.We need the kind of hit that leaves no trace.Someone who can make the world forget a household name.Someone who makes people vanish from every ledger and server.You’re that man.”
She goes on about the operation, her words coldly tactical as she details the routes to choke, shell companies to collapse, and private manifests to expose.She paints a map that I already know by heart.
“And the price?”I already know that, too.
“Sacrifice.”She lets out a breath that could be a smile.“Everything worth saving costs us.Matias gave up his childhood sweetheart to become a fearsomejefeso others could survive.Cole lost his fiancée and burned every bridge back to his law-abiding world.Van gave up…” She winces.“Things I won’t put into words.We’ve all bled for this life.”
Sacrifice.I’ve spent half my life bleeding for Dove.Every line of code, every murder, every sleepless night spent tracing Crowe’s shadow.If sacrifice is the price of love, I’ve been paying in installments for twenty years.
But this?This feels different.Bigger.Permanent.
I stare at the floor between my boots, trying to keep my pulse from showing in my neck.The idea of joining them curdles in my gut.I’ve lived too long in my own orbit, too used to being the ghost in the system, not part of one.I don’t trust causes.They start righteous and end in death.
Still, she’s not wrong.
Crowe’s reach is longer than mine.If I keep going at this alone, Dove dies.Maybe Wolf, too.Maybe me.
“I want your loyalty.”Camila’s brown eyes swirl with empathy, the kind that’s been weaponized, earned through pain, and honed for persuasion.“I want you not as a slave.Not as a bought man.I want you beside us, for the season we need you.Help us take down Crowe cleanly, permanently, and you’ll get what you want.Your stepsister gets to keep living.You get to keep the things that matter.”
She reaches into the language people like her use.Honor, sacrifice, liberation.It’s the kind of pitch men in uniforms make when they want soldiers to trade blood for a cause.It lands differently coming from her.I feel the truth under the rhetoric.She believes it.She’s lived it.Or she’s the best liar I’ve ever met.
I drag my good hand over my face, feeling the grit of sweat and resistance.
Keep the things that matter.
Yeah.That’s the problem.People like me don’t get to keep things that matter.We destroy them trying to protect them.
“You want me to join you,” I say flatly.“Not work for you.Join.”
“Yes.”She sways closer, teasing my senses with hints of orange blossom on her skin, an old scent, a memory of her grove, sweetly human in a room full of predators.“Stand with us.Use your skill.You won’t answer to Matias the capo or Van the enforcer.You’ll answer to the mission, the operation.”Her expression hardens.“If you can’t bear that, we can’t help you.The only way I’ll guarantee Dove’s safety is if I know you’re not going to turn on us when things get ugly.”
I want to refuse.I want to spit my objections and leave with my chest empty of bargains.I remember the way Van spoke of ownership.The cartel eats men like me with bullets and lifetime contracts and favors that turn into collars.
But I see Dove’s face when I close my eyes.I feel Wolf’s hand on my chest, massaging me.I see the cot, the duffel bag of meager belongings, the thin life I taped together in Sitka.I see a thousand little reasons to hand over my life to these violent avengers.
“What’s the catch?”My pulse buzzes in my ears.
“We don’t promise you immortality.We promise results.We promise that when it’s done, House of Crowe will be dead and dismantled, along with its founder.We promise protection for Dove and Wolf.Real protection, not the bandage you came here for.We ask for your blood on the plan.You will be exposed.You will be used.You will be expected to choose us over yourself at the moment it counts.”
Silence opens in the room like a held breath.Van’s toothpick turns slowly, his razor eyes unblinking.
I touch the base of my throat, the place where promises settle and decisions weigh.The answer sits there, raw and half-made.
“You want loyalty.”I swallow.“You want a man who won’t flinch.”
“Yes.”Her eyes are blades, homing in on the right place to cut.
“I’m flinching.You know why?Because I don’t want to belong to anyone.”
“You already belong to someone.We’re offering you the best chance to keep her.But it costs.Everything worth saving costs.Join us.”
“Join us.”Van winks.“If you’re not a fucking pussy.”
If they thought I was a pussy, I wouldn’t be here.
The offer is simple and terrible.The room waits for me to sign, to refuse, to decide whether I’ll become their weapon or die trying to stay outside their ranks.
My pulse slams as I unclench my jaw and meet her eyes.“Tell me the plan.”
