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Thirty One

Logan

W e both got the same text from Darren in our group chat.

Four words.

No punctuation.

No follow-up.

Darren

Someone’s in my apartment.

That was it.

My pulse shot into overdrive. I didn’t even think—just moved. Keys. Jacket. Door. Gone.

By the time I hit the stairs, I was already dialing Ava. She answered on the first ring.

“Logan—”

“I’m picking you up in five. We’re going to Darren’s.”

A sharp inhale. No hesitation. “I’ll be outside.”

I ended the call, shoved my phone in my pocket, and took the stairs two at a time. My mind was a fucking war zone—flashing worst-case scenarios like a highlight reel from hell. Someone had broken into Darren’s place. Were they still there? Was he hurt? Did they already get to him?

I didn’t know.

And that not knowing made me feel like I was going to fucking snap.

I threw myself into the driver’s seat, slammed the door, started the car, and peeled out like the pavement owed me something. By the time I reached Ava’s, she was already pacing on the curb, arms crossed tight like she was holding herself together. She didn’t even finish buckling before I gunned it again.

We hit the first red light and I barely tapped the brakes before taking a sharp right.

“Logan,” she snapped, gripping the door handle, “I get that you’re mad, but maybe don’t kill us before we get to Darren’s?”

“I’m not mad,” I muttered. “I’m fucking furious.”

Because this wasn’t random. This wasn’t just bad luck.

This was a goddamn message.

And it wasn’t subtle.

I pulled up to Darren’s building and didn’t even bother turning the engine off. I threw it in park, jumped out, and heard Ava’s door slam behind me as she caught up, ponytail swinging.

We took the stairs hard, and I knew we were both holding our breath the second we saw it.

The door was cracked open.

“Shit,” I muttered, stopping short.

Ava sucked in a sharp breath beside me. “Oh my God.”

I pushed the door open slowly, my heart in my throat.

The place was trashed.

Cushions slashed. Coffee table flipped. Broken glass crunched under my shoes as I stepped inside. The walls had deep gouges—scrapes like someone went at them with a fucking blade—and Darren’s laptop was in pieces on the floor.

And there he was.

Sitting on the only chair still standing. Elbows on his knees. Head in his hands.

“D?” I said quietly, but the tension in my voice still gave me away.

He looked up. Jesus, he looked like shit. Hollow-eyed. Pale. Hands trembling when he ran them through his hair.

“They’re not messing around.”

Ava moved first, stepping over the destruction to kneel beside him.

“Are you hurt?” she asked.

He shook his head, but his whole body screamed otherwise. “Not physically,” he said. “But they made their point.”

I swallowed down the burn in my throat. “When did this happen?”

“Got back an hour ago. Found it like this.” He exhaled, frustrated. “Tried calling…”

He didn’t finish. Didn’t need to.

I looked at Ava, the question already forming, but she was ahead of me. Her expression was set. Determined. Fierce.

“I have to share it all,” she said.

“What?” I blinked. “Share what all?”

She pulled a flash drive out of her pocket. Small. Silver. Dangerous.

“This has everything I used to build the story,” she said. “Evidence. Categorized. Clean. We could post it online.”

Darren froze.

My pulse kicked up again. “Wait, what?”

Darren let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t get it. If I don’t leave, if I don’t disappear, my family’s not safe. None of us are. If we post that, we’re fucked.”

I shook my head. “Fucked, maybe. But if something happens to us, it all leads back to them. That’s leverage.”

“No,” Darren said, standing fast enough to jolt the chair. “What’s bullshit is pretending like I have any control here. These people don’t play fair. They won’t wait around for us to make our move.”

I didn’t say anything. Just stared at the wreckage. At the torn couch. The slashed cushions. The goddamn scratches on the walls like this was some mob movie.

I exhaled slowly. “I don’t see another choice.”

That landed hard.

Ava crossed her arms. “This is our choice.”

Darren and I both looked at her.

She met my gaze, unwavering. “If they’re using secrets to control him, we take away their leverage. We go public. All of it.”

She took a step forward, fire in her eyes now. “No more protecting reputations. No more safe moves. If we expose it all, there’s no room for them to hide. And no one’s going to cover their asses if the entire world’s watching.”

My jaw tightened. It was dangerous. Reckless.

And she was right.

Darren rubbed his temples. “You really think that’ll work?”

“It’s the best shot we’ve got,” she said.

I nodded. “I’m in.”

Darren looked between us, something breaking loose behind his eyes. Fear. Resignation. Maybe resolve. Finally, he gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said, voice low. “Let’s do it.”

And then my phone rang.

The sound sliced through the moment like a blade.

I pulled it from my pocket, and everything in me stilled.

Andrew McKay.

My stomach bottomed out.

McKay didn’t call like this. He scheduled. He emailed. Texted. Ran his life like a spreadsheet.

A call this late? No heads-up?

No fucking way this was normal.

I met Ava’s eyes, then Darren’s, before I answered.

“Andrew?”

“We need to talk,” he said. Voice clipped. Tight. Like he was barely holding something back.

I straightened. “What’s going on?”

A pause. Then, “Not over the phone. Meet me at my office. Now.”

A cold chill rolled down my spine.

Every instinct screamed don’t go . Darren’s apartment was a war zone. We’d just decided to go public with something that could get us all buried. But McKay—he never cracked. Never rattled.

And right now? He sounded rattled as hell.

Ava stepped forward. “What was that about? He’s involved, Logan. You can’t go see him.”

I shook my head. “He’s my agent. I have to.”

She didn’t like it. I didn’t either.

But I couldn’t ignore this.

“Let’s see what he wants,” I said quietly.

Because if McKay was calling like this—demanding a late-night meeting—then something was coming.

And I was about to walk straight into it.