When the rumble of motorcycles finally reaches us, I'm on my feet and heading for the door before I can think better of it. The bikes pull through the gate in formation, brothers returning home whole but clearly shaken. Ice Pick's near the front, and the moment he's off his bike, I'm running.
He catches me, wrapping his arms around me tight enough to hurt, and I don't care. He's alive. He's safe. Nothing else matters.
"Told you I'd come back," he murmurs against my hair.
"You also told me you're always careful, which is clearly bullshit."
He laughs, rough and exhausted. "Fair point."
Vulture’s organizing a debrief, brothers filtering inside to regroup and process what happened. Ice Pick keeps his arm around me as we join them, and I can feel the tension radiating through his body. This isn't over. We all know it. Castellano's still out there, still dangerous, still hunting.
The common room's crowded, everyone talking over each other, trying to make sense of how their intel was compromised. Agent Forrister's there too, having followed the club back, her face drawn and gray.
"We've got a leak," she says when Falcon calls for quiet. "Someone with access to our investigation is feeding information to Castellano. That's the only explanation for how he knew we were coming."
"How many people have access?" Sterling asks.
"Too many. The investigation's big enough that it involves multiple departments, dozens of agents and support staff." She runs a hand through her hair. "We're conducting internal reviews, but that takes time. Time we don't have."
"What about Castellano's known associates?" I speak up, drawing everyone's attention. "If he's running, he needs help; money, safe houses, transportation. Someone's providing that for him."
"We've been monitoring his accounts, but he's got offshore holdings we can't access without international cooperation." Agent Forrister looks at me with something like respect. "Your financial analysis helped identify some of those, but there are gaps. Shell companies we haven't cracked yet."
"Then let me keep working on it. Give me access to whatever files you've got, and I'll dig deeper." I step forward, ignoring Ice Pick's hand tightening on my waist. "I've been investigating this longer than anyone. I know the patterns, the connections. Let me help."
"Ava, no." Ice Pick's voice is low, meant only for me. "You're already a target. Helping the feds makes you an even bigger one."
"I'm already the biggest target there is, might as well make it count." I look up at him, seeing the fear he's trying to hide. "I can do this, Mason, I can find the connections they're missing."
He wants to argue. I can see it in every line of his body. But he also knows I'm right. Knows that my skills and knowledge are assets they can't afford to waste.
"Fine," he says finally. "But you work from here, with Condor backing you up and me watching your six. No solo investigating, no reaching out to contacts without clearance. Agreed?"
"Agreed."
Agent Forrister nods. "I'll have files sent over within the hour. Anything you find, you report directly to me or Robert. No one else. We can't risk another leak."
She leaves with promises to coordinate further, and the brothers disperse to their own activities. Some head for food, others for showers, all of them processing the night's events in their own ways. Ice Pick guides me upstairs, his hand never leaving my back.
In his room, he strips off his cut and weapons with mechanical precision, the ritual of disarmament something he's done thousands of times. But his hands are shaking slightly, adrenaline crash setting in, and I move to help him.
"I'm fine," he says, but his voice lacks conviction.
"You're not. You're coming down from a firefight that almost killed federal agents. You're allowed to not be fine." I finish removing his holster, setting it carefully on the dresser. "Sit down."
He does, dropping onto the edge of the bed, and I stand between his legs with my hands on his shoulders. The muscles beneath my palms are coiled tight, tension wound through every inch of him.
"Three agents," he says quietly. "Two in critical condition, one dead on scene. I didn't know them, but they were there because we provided intel. Because we pointed the feds in that direction."
"Because Castellano's a monster who'll kill anyone to protect himself." I frame his face with my hands, forcing him to look at me. "You didn't set those explosives. You didn't tip him off. Youtried to help, and you saved the rest of your brothers by keeping them outside."
"Doesn't feel like saving anyone. It feels like we're always one step behind."
"Then we get ahead. We use every resource we've got, every bit of knowledge and skill, and we find him before he hurts anyone else." I lean down, pressing my forehead to his. "But first, you're going to shower, eat something, and rest. You're no good to anyone if you burn out."
"Bossy."
"You love it."
