Page 24 of Shrapnel

White Sand Mesa was a prison. Just because he held the key didn’t mean he was any freer.

Kurt narrowed his eyes and set the knife down on the counter. Giving his full attention to his nephew, he crossed his arms. Noah found his gaze drawn to his wrists. He couldn’t get used to the absence of the leather bands he always used to wear. Noah still couldn’t look at the jagged scars along the underside of his wrists.

“It’s…it’s fine.”

An eyebrow arched. “Weren’t you the one who told me to stop pretending to be fine?”

Noah forgot that their family had a complicated relationship with the word ‘fine’. It was what they said when the answer was too complicated. When they weren’t ready to expose themselves.

His uncle seemed to read his face and he nodded. “Right.”

Maybe if there wasn’t a mountain of baggage between them, they could have talked it out. They could put their pasts aside and communicate like healthy adults. Kurt was just beginning to heal. He didn’t want anything to do with the gangs and Noah would be damned if he was the one to bring him back into it.

And Noah didn’t trust him.

Kurt spent his entire life lying. He lied when he sent Noah away and he lied when he said he wasfine.His lies had hurt, and Noah could forgive, but he couldn’t forget.

With the sandwich wrapped in a paper towel, Kurt walked to Noah. He shared a knowing look with Grant before directing his attention to the teen.

“You know where to find us.”

Noah tried not to show the surprise on his face. “Thanks.”

Kurt stuffed the sandwich in his mouth and left. Noah stood frozen in the middle of the cabin. His heart hurt. For a moment he had seen something like sympathy in his uncle’s eyes. Worry. Like he wanted to say something more but couldn’t. Their strained relationship clogging his throat with feelings and a past neither was prepared to deal with.

“Would you like to sit?”

Grant’s pleasant voice cut through Noah’s downward spiral, and he collected himself.

The teenager flopped into the chair on the opposite side of Grant’s desk. Slouching down, he bit back a scowl. He couldn’t take his frustration out on the guy he was asking for help.

“I…” he began but didn’t know how to end it. What was he going to say?Hey, I know we’re technically rival gangs, but everything they say about me is true and I need a babysitter.

“You’re here about the murders.” Grant surmised.

Noah would have slapped that knowing smile off Grant’s face if he thought he would survive it. Grant had this innate ability to be pleasantly violent.

With a defeated sigh, he pulled out his phone. Bringing up the photos he tossed it onto the desk.

“I’ll go ahead and assume you know everything already,” he said as Grant picked up the phone. With a detached air, the man began scrolling through crime scene photos.

“Four in total. The ME has no ideawhatkilled them. All she can tell me is that it’s some sort of inhalant. A chemical or drug that causes that reaction to their skin.”

“How does it kill them?”

Noah tried not to show his discomfort. “Destroys their lungs. Rots the tissue.”

Grant hummed and zoomed in on a particular photo. “When did this start?”

“Four months ago. One victim a month.” Noah scratched the back of his head. “None of the victims have anything in common except their relationship to White Sand Mesa, but even that's tenuous. Andrews was one of our explosive experts, Koehler worked in drugs, and the other two were contractors—different jurisdictions.”

Setting the phone down, Grant leaned back in his chair. He watched Noah for a moment, waiting to see if he would offer up any more information.

“I haven’t heard anything,” he said finally. “There are rumors, of course, but nothing helpful. You’re keeping it quiet?”

“Of course,” Noah snorted. “I barely have a handle on my people as is. Every day another guy is gunning for my job, someone loyal to Luther who thinks he can do better. I let it out that someone is killing Elliotts under my watch and I might as well go ahead and fall on my sword.”

Grant had a complicated look on his face. Noah supposed he would have handled it differently. Unlike Noah, Grant had settled into his leadership position with ease. He became the leader of Weaver Syndicate because of his blood, but he earned it by being great. Under his leadership, they prospered. Weaver Syndicate was known worldwide. The brothers with the cloud tattoos on their arms were legendary and their people would die for them.