“The Syndicate used the catacombs for trafficking. Girls were auctioned off inyourcatacombs. If we succeed tonight, that ends. Forever.”
A sharp intake of breath. “Fuck. I didn’t—we didn’t know it was that bad.”
“Now you do. Help us end it,” Mara says.
“Okay. Yeah. Okay. Eight thirty. Fifteen angry DSN brothers looking for a fight. You’ll get your chaos.”
“Thank you,” Kade says.
“Don’t thank me yet. If this goes wrong, we’re all fucked.” A pause. “Kade? Be careful. Please.”
“Always am.”
“Liar.” But there’s affection in her voice. “Good luck. Burn it all down.”
She hangs up.
CJ immediately updates his timeline. “Okay, so we have confirmation. DSN arrives at eight thirty, fight starts, I trigger the first ignition at eight thirty-three. Fire spreads, evacuation happens, emergency services arrive by eight forty. Syndicate security splits. You four move on the actual target at nine.”
“While everyone’s focused on the fire,” I say.
“Exactly.”
Jasper signs,“What about after? When people start asking questions?”
“You’ll be gone—out of state, new identities, untraceable. I’ll handle the investigation misdirection, make sure the fire marshal’s report says ‘accidental.’ Make sure any security footage from tonight mysteriously corrupts. You four just need to execute the plan and get out,” CJ says simply.
“No pressure,” Mara mutters.
“Literally all the pressure. But hey, if it makes you feel better, I’ve run the probability matrices. You have a sixty-three percent chance of success,” CJ corrects cheerfully.
“Sixty-three?” Dredyn asks.
“That’s actually pretty good for amateur assassins committing arson during a college party. Could be worse. Could be fifty-fifty.” CJ shrugs.
“You’re a real optimist,” I say dryly.
“I’m a realist. But I’m also very good at my job, which improves your odds considerably.” He zips up the duffel bag. “I’m going to place the accelerants now. While I do that, you four should probably finalize your actual infiltration plan. I can handle making the building burn. You need to handle making your fathers die.”
“Wow. You really have a way with words,” Mara says.
“It’s a gift.” CJ heads for the door, then pauses. “For what it’s worth? I think you’re doing the right thing. The Syndicate is a cancer, and sometimes the only cure is cutting it out.”
He leaves, and the four of us sit in silence for a moment, staring at the schematic still spread across the table.
“So, this is really happening… tonight,” Mara says quietly.
“Tonight,” Dredyn confirms.
THIRTY-TWO
MARA
We’ve gone over this plan at least a dozen times in the past six hours, but none of us suggest stopping. Repetition is comfort. Repetition is control. And right now, control is the only thing keeping the panic at bay.
“Party starts at seven; we let it build for ninety minutes. By eight thirty, the house is packed, everyone’s drunk, and chaos is already baseline,” Talon recites.
I continue, following the sequence we’ve memorized. “DSN arrives at eight thirty—fifteen brothers, looking for a fight. Sable convinced them it’s a rivalry thing, that OCK challenged them.”
