Page 18

18

CHASE

The office comes into view, but so does the chaos brewing outside it. Damon Stone stands in the front, gripping a bat and swinging it with casual menace, each arc coming dangerously close to the office windows. My stomach tightens, though my face doesn’t show it. One of my men, Eric, blocks the door, his stance unyielding despite Damon’s antics. And then there’s Mira, lounging on the edge of a planter like she’s watching a particularly riveting soap opera.

Damon spots me before I even step out of the car. His grin is the kind that makes you want to check your wallet—or your weapon.

“Chase! Hello, old friend,” he calls, dragging out the words.

I walk up, eyes on him but my command is for my man. “Eric,” I say, “I’ve got this. Go inside.”

Eric hesitates for a second, glancing between me and Damon, but he knows better than to argue. “Yes, sir,” he says, disappearing into the building with one last wary look at Damon.

Damon’s grin stretches wider as I approach. His gaze drifts down, giving my suit a once-over, his lips curling with mock amusement.

“Well, well. Mira said she had a chat with you, but I called bullshit. Chase Samson, back from the dead. Navy special forces, wasn’t it? Heard you got fried in some chopper crash over Kabul.” His tone drips with theatrical disbelief, his grin widening. “Oh wait,” he says, snapping his fingers. “That’s my little rewrite.”

He chuckles, then continues, “Now you’re playing superhero with—” He pauses to glance at the office sign above. “Red Mark Rescue and Protect?” He draws out the name like he’s tasting something sour.

“Go home, Stone,” I assert. “I’ve got nothing for you.”

His gaze flicks to my tie, then back up, his smirk deepening. “And this getup? What’s the play here? Big boss man with the suit and shiny shoes? You got the office, the minions, the whole nine yards.” He tugs at his collar like he’s choking on the idea. “Didn’t think you’d ditch the camo for corporate chic. Or, did Red Mark run out of tactical gear?”

“Gimme that,” I say, stepping right into his space. I don’t wait for him to comply—I grab the bat mid-swing, pulling it from his grip with a sharp tug.

For a second, his eyes flash, the grin faltering just enough to reveal the simmering rage beneath. But then he lets it go, the bat slipping from his fingers. “No need to be so pushy,” he says, brushing imaginary dust off his shirt. “I was just testing the structural integrity of your precious windows.”

I plant the bat against the ground, leaning on it like it’s mine now. “And what structural integrity does your skull have, Damon? Careful—this place is built to last.”

He laughs, an obnoxious sound that grates on every nerve. “Always so charming, Chase. Aren’t you going to invite me in? It’s rude to keep an old friend standing outside.”

Mira smirks, her eyes flicking between us like she’s placing bets.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “Lobby only,” I say, motioning them inside.

Damon steps forward, his movements like the kind of predator who knows he has the upper hand—or thinks he does. His gaze flicks back to my suit as he smirks. “Seriously, though. You’re rocking that suit. Did they hand those out as a ‘welcome to middle management’ gift? Or did you just want to look extra sleek for me today?”

I keep my expression neutral, but the jab lands exactly where he wants it. Damon’s always been about pushing buttons, testing limits. Not this time.

As they step into the lobby, I glance back at the bat in my hand, a quiet reminder of just how thin the line is between annoyance and outright danger. Damon may think he’s in control, but he’s about to learn that I didn’t build this place—or myself—just to watch him tear it down.

“Fancy couch,” Damon drawls, sprawling himself across the leather like he owns the place. His fingers drum lazily on the armrest, the bat he relinquished now a distant memory. “You’ve come up in the world, Samson.”

I don’t bite. Silence is a better weapon than words with Damon. His grin falters just slightly before he leans back, surveying the room with exaggerated nostalgia. “You know, I still remember the old days. Back when you were part of the Circle. You weren’t just good—you were one of the best. A natural.”

“I’m not here for a trip down memory lane, Stone,” I say coldly. “What do you want?”

Mira cuts us off, “I want Oakley!”

“My answer hasn’t changed. He’s off-limits.”

She sits up, her grin sharpening as if daring me to argue. “We’re legally Oakley’s parents!”

I snort, shaking my head. “Since when do you guys do anything legal? Child Protection is all over this. They won’t let either of you anywhere near him.”

The mention of Child Protection draws a low hiss from the corner where Mira leans, her eyes spitting venom. “You self-righteous bastard,” she snarls. “Always thinking you’re better than us.”

I don’t respond. Let her bark. Damon, however, starts shifting in his seat, his agitation bubbling to the surface. He’s never been one to handle stonewalling well. Behind him, I notice Eric approaching cautiously, his eyes trained on the scene. I give him a small, subtle shake of my head. Stay put.

“I want my sons, Samson!” Damon spits. “And that bitch too if it’s not too troublesome.”

“You’ll die trying.”

Damon’s fingers tap against the armrest again, harder this time. The grin is gone, replaced by something colder. “You think this is over?” he says after a long silence. “You think you’ve won? Fine. I’ll think of something else. You know I’m nothing if not resourceful.”

He stands abruptly, straightening his jacket with a casualness that doesn’t match the weight of his words. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” he adds, his voice dripping with faux cheer. But his eyes... There’s nothing cheerful about them. The easy, laid-back demeanor is a mask, and the eeriness behind his gaze lingers long after he turns to leave.

Mira follows, tossing one last scathing look over her shoulder as they head for the door. The sound of their footsteps fades, but the tension they leave behind doesn’t.

Eric steps forward once they’re gone. “You okay, boss?”

I nod slowly, my eyes fixed on the door. “For now.”

But the words Damon left hanging in the air. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya .

The Circle never makes idle threats.