“If you lose him, that’s your fuckin’ asses,” Meridian said darkly to whoever was hacking the CCTV feeds.
“They’re jumping on the Beltway.”
They followed the car northeast on I-495 until it got off at Exit 23 towards Trinidad—a city known for its high crime rates.
The longer Gage waited the more anxious…and furious, he became.
The SUV turned into a rundown club parking lot and stopped at the back entrance.
“Help me out here, Roz.” Jo said, sounding a little stressed and tired. “I know the rules. No one leaves a gang, especially one like the Kings, but did they really come all this way for revenge?”
“There’s no way they could’ve known Scar was here. It must be a lucky fuckin’ coincidence they spotted him on the street,” Roz answered.
He shot up straighter, snapping his fingers.
“Oh shit! I bet they’re here for the concert this weekend. J-Riot is performing at the Capital One arena on Saturday. He’s a big hip-hop artist who was born and raised in the South Side and has always shouted out the Kings in his songs. I guarantee that’s why they’re here.”
“Well, they should’ve just watched the show and left,” Meridian said coldly. “Because now they’re gonna’’ be buried here.”
“They’ll rough him up before they kill him,” Roz said flatly. “We got time to get him.”
“Corvo, ready the team for—”
“No,” Gage snapped, cutting Meridian off. “Ready my team. I’m going to get my partner myself.”
“Gage—” Someone called out, but he didn’t wait to hear any objections.
The corridor leading to their side of the facility felt longer than it was because everything inside Gage was moving fast.
When he reached the junction where the Whites’ Rapid Response Mobility Unit merged with the Field Operations Wing, he didn’t have to ask Roz who was in there… He could hear the organized efficiency of the dedicated men and women who’d trained months for this very moment.
His weapons were being laid out while Elias—no longer full of jovial, fun energy—was all business as he dressed him for battle as his weapons team readied his gear.
Four minutes later, Elias did a final check of his tactical layers, coms wiring, and micro-camera glasses.
“You’re set.”
It would be his first time in the field, but he’d trained months for this.
He was ready.
The thought should have scared him, but instead, he was radiating calm on the inside.
Gage walked down the hall toward the underground bay where their armored vehicles waited, cane in hand, spine ramrod straight, mind narrowed to one point.
Scar. Mine.
An announcement sounded through headquarters.
“White Raven alert. Field code red. The Saint deploying. All essential units activated.”
He could feel them watching him—staff, medical personnel, and security—the weight of disbelief and hesitation in their stares.
He didn’t lower his head.
The Greens approached, and without a word, made a tight formation around him.
A warmth spread through his chest at the reassurance that he stood among brothers who didn’t doubt him.
