Page 26

Chapter Nineteen

T he streets are slick with rain meaning when the temps drop tonight, everything will be a skating rink by morning.

Aidric kills the headlights a block from the North Ridge Police Department and rolls to a stop behind a row of maintenance trucks. From here, the station looks small and harmless, but we both know better.

"You ready?" I ask, tugging on a pair of black tactical gloves.

Aidric pulls a dark mask over his face, voice flat. "This place is a fucking joke. We get in, get the rock, and get the hell out."

We move like shadows. Aidric’s stride is steady and fearless like this isn’t his first break-in. Which, granted, it's not.

We circle around the back toward the loading dock. It’s dark and deserted with one overhead bulb flickering. We already checked the security here and the feed is embarrassingly easy to hack. I was able to adjust their field of vision a little to the left so we won’t be in the frame.

Aidric crouches and pulls a lockpick set from his inner jacket pocket. "Just gimme a sec," he says, already getting to work.

I keep my eyes on the alley, heart thudding like a war drum. The cameras are taken care of, but we still need to be mindful of anyone lingering around the building. The police station is just an office and isn't used overnight, so we should be safe.

Less than a minute later, the door creaks open. "We’re in," Aidric says flatly.

I scan the lot once more, then slip inside behind him. The air smells like old paper and burnt coffee. It's dead quiet, meaning either the security guard is slacking or Aidric was right, and this place really is a joke.

We move fast and low, ducking past the front desk and a couple wall-mounted cameras that clearly haven't been serviced in years. Down the hall, we find the corridor marked Administration .

"Klein’s office," I whisper, nodding to a door at the end.

Aidric doesn’t hesitate as he pulls out a small flashlight, wedging it into the crook of his neck so the angle beams just right. He picks the second lock even faster than the first and we slip inside and close the door behind us.

The office is cramped but meticulously arranged. Towers of files are stacked on the desk, the corkboard above webbed with red string, pins, and notes. My breath catches when I see a photo of Callan’s mangled car taped dead center with the brake line circled in red.

My stomach drops.

Aidric heads for the bookshelf. "Start looking," he growls. "I’ll check the shelves."

I move toward the desk, eyes scanning every detail. I tug at the top drawer but halt when I realize it’s locked.

"Hey," I whisper. "Gimme the pick."

Without hesitation, Aidric tosses it over and I catch it midair. A few quick turns, and the drawer pops open.

Inside, I find more than I bargained for—a hella thick folder labeled ICE LORDS in bold marker.

My pulse spikes.

I flip it open and find documents—transcripts, photos, initiation logs. My name, Aidric’s. Jeremiah’s, fucking Slade’s. It’s all here.

Then, I see a faded photo lying where the file was in the drawer. It's old, yellowed at the edges. It has to be twenty-five, thirtyish years ago. Three members wearing masks and cloaks. I flip the photo over, and my breath leaves my lungs when I see three names scrawled in cursive ink:

Klein. Redmond. Church.

Aidric’s last name.

"Holy shit," I whisper, holding it up. "Dude. He was one of us."

Aidric glances over, brows furrowed. "What?"

He drops whatever he was holding and marches toward me, snatching the photo from my hand.

"Flip it over," I tell him, and his eyes going wide the instant he reads the names.

"That’s my dad," he says quietly. "And Klein."

His face hardens like stone. "Son of a bitch," he grits out. "He was an Ice Lord."

"Jesus," I breathe. His vendetta against us makes so much more sense now.

Aidric rakes a hand over his jaw, eyes darting. "That means this fucking detective knows everything about us."

"It also means he knows about the back entrance to The Chamber. This asshole is either hunting us," I say slowly, "or someone else is and he’s trying to get ahead of it."

I slide the photo back into the folder and slap it shut. "We take everything."

"Already ahead of you," Aidric says, holding up the rock.

My breath rushes out. "You found it?"

"Hiding in plain sight, behind a fucking nameplate. Idiot thought it was safe in here."

I grin. "We came for one secret and walked out with a hell of a lot more."

Aidric moves toward the door. "Then let’s move before it gets us fucking killed."

We don’t talk as we retrace our path and slip out the back door, vanishing into the night like ghosts, but my mind is racing.

Klein was one of us. Which means this shit just got personal.

Back in the car, Aidric grips the steering wheel like it insulted his mother. His jaw is clenched, eyes locked on the wet road as rain continues to drizzle across the windshield, freezing at the edges and turning to sludge as it traces a path down the glass..

I stare out the passenger window, watching the world blur past like we’re trying to outrun it.

"What are ya thinking?" I finally ask.

Aidric doesn’t look over. "I’m thinking we let Klein sweat this out, don’t give him any clues that we did this."

I nod, jaw tight. "I agree. Let him walk into that office, see the wreckage, realize the file and the rock are missing. We make him feel exposed. He'll know it was us, and he'll come."

"He’ll panic," Aidric says with a dark smile. "Panic makes people stupid and sloppy."

"He’s already sloppy," I mutter. "But now he knows we know, and that shifts the playing field in our favor."

A long pause stretches between us.

"We watch him," Aidric adds. "Every move, every call. If he runs, we follow."

I nod again. "He’ll show his hand sooner or later."

Aidric relaxes in his seat, wrist draped over the steering wheel. "This might actually work in our favor," he says. "Klein can’t touch us now—not without torching himself in the process."

"Didn't think of it that way. But you're right." I crack a grin and lean my head back against the seat. "We are un-fucking touchable."

We fall into silence again as Aidric takes a sharp turn onto our street. The house looms ahead beneath the stormy sky. I pull out my phone and send a quick text to Avery.

Me: How’d it go at the range, Little Lamb?

I can see that she reads it instantly, but no dots pop up to say she's typing.

A minute passes, and no response. I frown slightly, thumb hovering over the screen. She always replies, even if it's just to tell me to fuck off.

"Something wrong?" Aidric asks as he kills the engine in the garage.

I shake my head slowly. "Not yet."

We head inside and the house is mostly dark aside from a faint glow coming from the kitchen. Aidric heads toward The Chamber door, mumbling something about locking the stone in the tunnel room.

I take the stairs two at a time, file tucked under my arm. My night just filled up. I plan to go through every page of this file until I know exactly how deep Klein's reach goes.

But first, I need to change and get this nasty, cop-office stench off me.

When I push open my bedroom door, I freeze when my eyes catch the bathroom door open with the light on. I step inside and immediately see the word "liar"written in what appears to be red lipstick on my mirror.

I drag a hand down my jaw and stare, a humorless laugh slipping out before I can stop it.

This is so impulsive, so chaotic, and so perfectly her .

I'm not even sure what I did this time. Could she be jealous that a girl I hooked up with left her lipstick here. Nah. Avery wouldn't give a shit about that.

Either way, she's pissed about something.

"She’s gonna be the death of me," I mutter under my breath, the corners of my mouth twitching.

I leave the message where it is. Hell, maybe I’ll keep it there forever as a reminder of the hurricane I invited into my life.

I go to my desk and flop the folder down, noticing another note from my little lamb.

Thanks for the range time, asshole. Hope your secret mission was worth it.

I stare at it for a long moment, a dry chuckle falling out of my mouth again. This time, it's a little humor, a little guilt, and a whole lot of fuck.

I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, hands under my chin.

So that's what this is about. She figured out the range time wasn't a kind gesture, but a calculated one. Probably thinks I only fucked her as a distraction, too. Which is the furthest thing from the truth.

So much for keeping secrets from the girl who reads between lines like they were written for her.

She's pissed, and honestly, she has every right to be. For some reason I find it adorable that she got so upset about me keeping her in the dark. I imagine her storming in here, her face scrunched up in fury as she looks around my space, seeking revenge.

She could have stolen all of my underwear, taken my pillow, wrecked the whole place just to prove a point. But she didn’t. Even in her anger, she was calculated and methodical.

And for some odd reason, I actually feel bad for not telling her about tonight. Not because this got her upset, but because maybe she deserves to know. This person isn’t just going after us, they threatened her too. And that’s what I can’t seem to figure out.

How is Avery connected to this adversary we’re up against?

The question plays on repeat in my head before I shake it and get to my feet. Answers aren’t going to come from sitting around doing nothing. Now I'm gonna have to kiss some serious ass to get Avery to trust me again, so we can find this fucker together.