Page 30

W e have seven days.

It’s been a week since the fight between Victor and Silas, and we still don’t have any goddamn answers.

Technically, Silas should be out. He lost. And if this were any other fight, any other challenge, Victor would already be sitting in the president’s seat, wearing that smug, self-satisfied look that makes me want to put my fist through his face. But he isn’t. Because the second he won, he vanished.

Had his daddy fly him out of the country the next morning like the spoiled little shit he is. No celebration, no rubbing it in Silas’ face, no making a spectacle out of his so-called victory. It doesn’t make sense. If Victor wanted power, why run? If he wanted control, why leave it behind?

Something wasn’t right about that night. Maybe he got paid off. Maybe the ref was in on it. Maybe Silas was set up from the start. What I do know is that Silas should’ve had that fight in the bag, but instead, he ended up bloody and barely breathing.

And now? The club is in limbo. Some of the guys think Victor should be president, even though he abandoned his claim before the blood had even dried on the mat. Others know what I know—Silas is war. He doesn’t fucking lose. Not like that.

So until we get answers, no one’s making a move. And that means Silas is still in power. For now.

Silas has spent most of the week getting babied by Sable. I get it—he was hurt, bad—but seriously, the guy gets a few bruised ribs, and suddenly she won’t leave his side. She practically lives in his room now, hovering over him like some hot ass nurse.

Until today, when I all but stole her.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I needed her focus, her brain, her fire—hell, I just needed her.

Now Sable sits cross-legged on my bed, her laptop balanced on her knees, the hood of Dayton’s oversized sweatshirt hiding most of her face. Only the ends of her blonde hair spill out, curling slightly against the fabric. Her fingers fly over the keyboard, her eyes locked on the screen with that look she gets when she’s deep in research.

I should be focused, too. We’re supposed to be digging into the murderer, chasing down leads about Victor’s connection to all of this. Instead, I’m staring at her, watching the way she bites her lower lip as she reads, completely oblivious to the effect she has on me.

That habit of hers? It drives me fucking insane.

I force myself to look away, dragging my gaze back to my own laptop. But the damage is done. All I can think about is how good she looks sitting there, the way her body curves under the hoodie, the smooth stretch of her legs as they peek out from beneath it.

I wish we could forget all of this—Victor, the Syndicate, the weight pressing down on us. I wish we could spend the entire day in bed, her body under mine, her voice breathy as she says my name.

Fuck.

I clear my throat, trying to shove the thought aside before it derails me completely. “Find anything yet?” I ask, leaning back against the headboard and feigning nonchalance.

“Not yet.” She sighs. Then she pauses, her gaze narrowing as something on the screen catches her attention. “Wait. What’s this?”

I scoot closer, the mattress dipping under my weight. Her laptop screen is filled with scanned documents, old newspaper clippings, and lines of text that blur together. She scrolls quickly, her fingers trembling slightly.

“This name keeps popping up,” she says, jabbing her finger at the screen. “Mason Hughes. That’s Dayton’s dad, right?”

My throat tightens. The name alone feels like a warning bell. “Yeah,” I say cautiously, leaning closer. “That’s him. What’s he got to do with any of this?”

The question feels loaded, heavy. Dayton doesn’t talk about his dad much—hell, he doesn’t talk about him at all unless it’s dragged out of him.

Mason Hughes wasn’t just a bastard. He was a tyrant. The kind of man who saw his family as property—something to be controlled, broken, and rebuilt in his image. Dayton still carries the scars—physical and otherwise.

And Mason earned every inch of the grave Dayton put him in.

“This article mentions Dayton’s dad being investigated.”

I lean closer, the mattress dipping under my weight. Her lips move as she reads silently, her expression hardening with every line.

“It’s from years ago,” she continues. “It talks about suspicions of money laundering… and—” She pauses, her throat bobbing as she swallows hard.

“What?” I prompt, my pulse kicking up as I watch her struggle to say the words.

Her lip trembles, her gaze darting to mine before flicking back to the screen. “And human trafficking.”

The words slam into me like a punch.

I straighten, dragging my fingers through my hair, trying to process what she just said. “You’re kidding,” I say, though it’s not a question.

She shakes her head, scrolling down further. “It’s all here. Suspicions, investigations… but nothing ever stuck. It says the case was thrown out when witnesses kept going missing, some dead, some out of the country.”

Of course, it did. A man like Mason Hughes wouldn’t leave loose ends.

Sable clicks on another link, pulling up a grainy newspaper article with a short but brutal headline:

Local Businessman Found Dead in Apparent Accident

She freezes, her breath catching audibly. “This was the night…”

“Yeah. The night Dayton killed him.”

She looks at me, her hazel eyes wide and glassy.

“He was a monster. He deserved much worse.”

“Worse than your own son killing you?”

“Yes. Worse.”

I hold her gaze for a moment before looking away, exhaling sharply. “Fair enough.”

“Do you think it’s weird that Dayton’s mom married Levi’s dad almost instantly after Mason died?”

I frown, leaning back slightly. “I mean… not really? They were grieving. People do crazy shit when they’re hurting.”

“And they both went to college together,” she points out, scrolling to another page.

“Maybe they were friends.”

“Or what if it was for protection?”

The question hangs between us, sharp and jarring.

“Protection from who?” I ask, though the answer already forms in my mind.

“The Syndicate.”

A cold knot forms in my stomach.

“The Syndicate wanted to kill Dayton’s mom?”

Sable nods slowly, her fingers trembling over the trackpad. “Well… they killed Levi’s.”

“And you think Killian Thompson—Levi’s dad—could protect her?”

There’s a fire in her eyes. The kind that lets me know her brain is fast at work breaking down theories. I love that side of her. “He would if she knew about the human trafficking. If she knew what Mason was doing…”

I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, right. So, the Syndicate will murder people, arrange marriages, rig elections—but they draw the line at human trafficking?”

Sable’s gaze flicks back to her screen. “Maybe it’s not about morals,” she says quietly. “Maybe it’s about optics. Trafficking is messy and unpredictable—it invites heat they don’t want. They want control, not chaos. If Maria knew about Mason stepping outside their rules, that would be enough to make her a liability.”

I shake my head, rubbing a hand over my face. “So, you think they arranged it. Set her up with Killian to cover their own asses.”

She hesitates, then nods. “If she said no…”

“She’d end up like Levi’s mom… If this is true, then Levi and Dayton didn’t just lose their parents. They were collateral damage in whatever game the Syndicate was playing.”

Sable scrolls down and a few moments later, she clicks on an old article. “Here, look at this,” she says, turning the laptop toward me. It’s a grainy wedding announcement from over a decade ago. Maria Hughes and Killian Thompson, smiling like it’s the happiest day on earth.

“Why would Killian agree to this? He killed their leader. Why wouldn’t they just take him out?”

“Maybe he didn’t have a choice. He just lost Levi’s mom. Maybe they threatened Levi. Or maybe he thought marrying Maria would protect her. Grief does weird things to people. It blinds them.”

I study the photo, my gut churning. Maria has a short little white dress with a tiny bouquet. Killian is dressed in a white dress shirt and navy pants. The two are standing in some random garden. I’m sure Levi and Dayton were around them that day, having to witness a union that was fabricated. “So, they let him live… not out of mercy, but because they could use him.”

“Exactly, and they waited to retaliate. They didn’t just kill Levi’s mom out of revenge. They did it to send a message. To show Killian that they could, and would, destroy the people he cared about. That even after killing their leader… he wasn’t immune to the Syndicate.”

I drag a hand through my hair, the pieces clicking together in a way that makes me sick. “So, you’re saying they didn’t just let Killian live after he killed their leader. They found a use for him years later. To tie up loose ends and keep their power intact. Their true revenge is forcing him into marriage with Dayton’s mother.”

Sable nods. “If I know anything about the Syndicate… it’s that they love control… and they’ve been losing it for years.”