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“Thanks,” Hemlock said, not bothering with pleasantries. “Be quick.”

“Yep.” Sherlock stumbled back towards his bedroom wondering how the hell they’d gotten home last night.

The line went dead as Sherlock hung up, and Hemlock dropped his phone onto the desk, his mind racing. He knew Sherlock could track down the specifics in no time, but it wasn’t going to ease his growing sense of dread.

He let out a deep breath, the kind that felt like it could ground him if he just held it long enough. The office was quiet for now, just the soft hum of the lights overhead and the distant sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway. Razor and Lottie would take care of Charlie for the moment. The scans would give them more answers than they previously had, and with Sherlock on the case, hopefully he’d have something to go on soon.

For the first time in hours, Hemlock let himself relax—just a little. His head tipped back against the chair, his legs stretched out and resting on the desk in front of him. His eyelids felt heavy, the kind of exhaustion that wrapped itself around you and threatened to pull you under.

Hemlock felt like he’d just closed his eyes when the office door slammed open. Dropping his feet to the floor, he sat up trying to focus on Razor bounding into the small room.

“Did you want to look at these scans, Hemlock?”

Hemlock rubbed his eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of his brief nap as Razor tossed the scans onto the desk in front of him. He focused on the scans Razor had laid out, trying to process the data before him. As expected, the hairline fracture in Charlie’s cheekbone was clearly visible in the X-rays. The fracture wasn’t deep, but it was enough to cause significant pain. The swelling around the area was pronounced—definitely adding to her discomfort. Hemlock could only imagine how bad it must have felt the night before when she had been curled up on the sofa

Razor was still standing at the desk, watching Hemlock closely. “Well?” he asked, his voice quieter than usual. “What’s the verdict?”

Hemlock glanced up, giving Razor a hard look. “The fracture’s manageable. The swelling’s what’s really making it worse. Pain’s gotta be unbearable. Best thing we can do right now is ice it, let her rest, and get some pain meds into her.”

Razor didn’t look entirely convinced. “You think she’lltakethe meds?”

Hemlock’s lips twitched in a dry half-smile. “If I have to, I’ll sit on her while she takes them.”

Razor grunted, clearly not expecting that response. “Has she said anymore about the fight?”

Hemlock set the scans aside and leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the weight of the situation pressed down on him. “She’s dealing with heavier shit than just one fight. I’ve got Sherlock digging into things.”

“Keep me and the others in the loop.” Razor picked up the scans and walked out, leaving Hemlock to think things through for himself. Something told Razor the girl had a lot of baggage. Baggage his brother might not wanna deal with.

Chapter Ten

Hemlock found Sherlock going through the CCTV footage. When Charlie bumped into his back, he looked at her and smiled. She was wide-eyed taking in the clubhouse and everyone there. He remembered the first time he’d walked through the heavy doors, the same sense of awe and curiosity bubbled up inside him. The air was thick with the scent of old leather, whiskey, and something that always seemed to linger… a mix of belonging and family. It was like stepping into a living, breathing thing.

Charlie’s expression—half wonder, half wariness—reflected what everyone had felt when they first crossed the threshold. But there was something else there too, a touch of nervousness, like she wasn’t quite sure what to make of the strange new world unfolding around her.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a soft chuckle. “It’s not nearly as intimidating as it looks.” Hemlock then glanced towards the man in front of the computers. “Sherlock, how’s things going?”

Sherlock paused the footage, glancing over his shoulder at Hemlock then at Charlie who stood there, wide-eyed, taking in the full expanse of the clubhouse. It was still like that for himsome days, it always felt like the heart of something bigger. Something wild and unyielding. “First timer, huh?” he chuckled.

Charlie nodded, running a hand through her hair. “Yeah. It’s... different than I imagined.”

“It always is,” Sherlock agreed, his lips quirking into a smile. “But it grows on you.” He put his attention back to Hemlock and the CCTV footage. “Hemlock, I’m doing a quick run through to see what kind of quality we have.”

Charlie leaned in looking at the large monitor screen. She’d never seen one that huge. Then she saw a familiar face of a man pop into view walking down the sidewalk and pointed at the screen. “That’s my ex.”

Sherlock’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, his eyes narrowing as he zoomed in on the face in the footage. The image stretched, sharpening into a clearer view of Charlie’s ex. “Hey, I know that guy,” Sherlock said, his voice neutral but tinged with recognition. “I’ve seen him around a few times. He’sCrispen Allen, right?”

“Yes. Who doesn’t know him,” she said with an irritated tone. Everyone knew the Allens. They owned and operated one of the top software companies in Canada.

Sherlock nodded, understanding more than he let on. There was a certain type of person who thought they could control everything. People like Crispen, who believed the world was just a game of moves and countermoves. “He’s been in the news lately. Seems he’s been involved with shady people.” Sherlock had been keeping an eye on the news. Always waiting for something to come back on them for the situation at theFunhouse. That’s why he knew about Crispen Allen and his troubles.

Charlie knew Crispen’s father would never admit that his only son was doing anything wrong. The man had spoiled his son trying to make up for Crispen’s mother running off on them when he was five. “Even when it’s obvious, his father won’t admit his son is in the wrong.”

A string of nannies hadn’t helped the situation, all they did was make Crispen a rotten selfish jerk. However, he was charismatic and could talk anyone into anything. Charlie was one of those people. After all she was paying for an apartment, he and his current girlfriend were living in. “His father always bails him out. No matter what he does it never has stuck to him.”

Sherlock picked up the soda can next to his keyboard and took a drink thinking about Crispen Allen. “One day that rich boy will get what’s coming to him.”

“In the meantime, I’d love to get him and Ashley to leave me alone.”