Page 9 of My End (Iron Fiends #10)

Stretch

I blinked up at the ceiling with my arm draped across my forehead and let out a groan.

Three in the afternoon.

My whole damn internal clock was sideways.

Night shift had fucked me up in more ways than one. Half the time I didn’t know what day it was, and when I did, it felt like it didn’t matter. Every day in this house ran on the same toxic cycle of control and protocol. The rules only seemed to shift when Boone was in residence.

Boone was due back today.

Soon.

I threw off the thin blanket, sat up, and scrubbed both hands over my face. My muscles ached from sleeping like the dead. The nights had been long, with just more watching and more waiting than doing, but that wasn’t what wore on me.

It was the pretending.

Pretending not to care. Pretending not to flinch when some of the shit I overheard made my fists curl. Pretending I wasn’t cataloging every detail for the day I brought the whole damn house down.

I stood, cracked my back, and shuffled into the bathroom.

Pissed. Washed my hands. Let the water run cold before I splashed it over my face.

Then to the shower. It was hot, scalding, and enough to bring me fully online.

I stood under the spray for longer than I should have. My fingers pressed into the tile wall, and my head bowed under the stream like the water was a baptism I didn’t earn.

I turned it off, grabbed a towel, and dried off fast.

Then dressed.

Cargo pants. Black T-shirt. Standard issue for this place.

But it was the lack of weight on my shoulders that threw me. Every day for years, I’d put on my cut first like armor or second skin. Now?

Now I walked around bare.

Naked without it.

Six days without the Fiend’s patch, and I felt like a goddamn ghost.

A knock sounded on the door just as I was sliding my boots on. I rose and crossed the room.

Jim stood on the other side, his face stone and solid like always.

“Boone is fifteen minutes out,” he said without preamble. “I want you outside and waiting when he arrives. Everyone will be there.”

I nodded once. “Understood.”

Jim turned on his heel and left without another word.

I closed the door, leaned back against it, and exhaled.

This was it.

This was what I’d been waiting for.

Boone.

He was the puppet master. Gibbs might have been the street-level devil, but Boone? Boone was the hand pulling all the strings from a marble tower in D.C.

Now he was minutes away from standing in front of me.

If only I could put a bullet between his eyes the second he stepped out of that black car.

But that’d be messy, and it wouldn’t do what I needed it to do.

Taking Boone out wasn’t the mission. Not yet.

I needed information. Proof. A full damn arsenal of evidence that would burn his empire to the ground and leave nothing but ash.

That meant playing the long game.

With a deep breath, I opened the door, stepped out, and headed upstairs.

The hallway was quiet, but the energy had shifted once I got upstairs. The staff had their heads down and moved fast with their faces tight.

I passed through the main foyer and stepped out the front door.

Eight other guys were already lined up outside.

We stood shoulder to shoulder on the front walk.

Me. Mick. James. Kevin. Carl. Doug. Terrence. Joel. Shane.

Every single one of them looked like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. Built like tanks. Trained killers. Unsmiling. Unyielding.

I hated to admit it, but Boone didn’t hire fools.

These guys were some of the best, but none of them were me.

The minutes ticked by.

The air was thick with August humidity. My shirt clung to my back, and sweat rolled down my spine.

Then a crackle sounded in the radios clipped to our belts. “The crow is home,” Billy’s voice came over the line from the gate.

My spine straightened.

Seconds later, a black Lincoln Town Car crested the hill and eased down the long driveway. It glided up like a sleek and dark panther.

It stopped directly in front of the stairs.

No one moved.

Jim stepped forward and moved to the back passenger door.

He opened it with precision, and Boone stepped out.

He was exactly like I had seen in pictures and on TV.

Tall. Broad. Not in a gym rat kind of way, more like a lion who didn’t need to flex to be feared. His silver hair was slicked back and his tailored navy suit perfectly pressed. Every detail about him was curated. From his gleaming shoes to the soft gold cufflinks on his shirt.

He looked like money.

He looked like control.

And every cell in my body screamed to take him down.

Boone adjusted his cuff, straightened the lapel of his jacket, and spoke quietly to Jim. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but Jim nodded.

Then, louder, Jim said, “We’ll be ready for his arrival.”

His? I frowned slightly.

Boone turned and looked toward the rest of us.

Jim stepped forward again. “Let me introduce you to Jake. He’s the final hire to round out the security.”

My pulse jumped as Boone’s eyes locked on mine.

He and Jim approached, their footsteps measured and precise.

Boone’s eyes were sharp and calculating. Like he could read your soul if you stood too still.

I held my ground.

I didn’t flinch.

Boone extended his hand. “Jake.”

I took it with a firm grip. “Mr. Drake. It’s an honor, sir.”

He studied me as we shook. “Where’d you serve?”

“Private sector,” I replied evenly. “Fifteen years of close protection detail and tactical response.”

Boone nodded slowly. “Good. You look like the type of man I need next to me.”

He turned to Jim. “Who’s assigned to my personal detail while I’m home?”

Jim didn’t blink. “The usual.”

Boone’s gaze shifted back to me. “Switch Kevin out for Jake.”

A flicker of something passed over Jim’s face. Irritation, maybe. Surprise? But he nodded. “Whatever you want, sir. Jake will be with you at dinner. I’ll get him up to date with everything before then.”

Boone nodded. “Good. I’ll be in my office until dinner. No interruptions.”

He turned without another word and walked into the house with Mick and James trailing behind him like shadows.

The second the door closed behind them, Jim turned to me. “I don’t know if you’re up for this.”

I met his gaze without hesitation. “If that’s what Mr. Drake wants, then I think that’s what we should give him.”

Jim snorted softly. “He’s going to test you.”

“I’m ready.”

Jim studied me a second longer, then muttered, “His associate, Mr. Gibbs, will be here for dinner as well.”

It took everything I had not to react.

Not to smile.

Not to let my hand twitch toward my side.

Boone and Gibbs.

The two men responsible for more pain than most people could imagine.

They’d be seated at the same dinner table in just a few hours.

It was like the universe was dangling them in front of me on a silver platter.

All it would take was one phone call.

One message to Yarder and the Fiends.

We could storm the compound, take them out, and finish this tonight, but I knew that wasn’t the way.

Not yet.

We needed more.

Boone’s house was a vault. What I needed was the key to unlock it. I needed files. Photos. Audio. Names. Dates. Connections.

That meant biding my time and playing the part.

Winning trust and then striking when it would hurt the most.

Jim slapped my shoulder hard. “Get ready. Boone’s dinner hours are sacred.”

I nodded and watched as he walked away.

I stood there for another minute, staring at the door Boone had disappeared through.

Then I turned back toward the house.

Toward my mission.

Toward my revenge.

And the final game began.