Page 14

Chapter fourteen

The road stretched out ahead of me, barren and endless, cutting through the vast plains before rising into the jagged peaks of the Smoky Mountains. Beautiful country, I had to admit. America had some gems.

But that wasn’t enough to keep my attention.

My mind kept wandering back to the previous night, which owed me absolutely nothing. I woke up satisfied this morning, happy as hell to open my eyes and see Santari’s pretty sleeping face, with my brothers spread out on the opposite side of her.

Perfect start to my day .

Things got just a little bit freaky, but San was down. In fact, seeing how down she was, how comfortable she was, made the sex more intense. And that nut was extra strong.

I was getting hard just thinking about it.

I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. The further I drove, the thinner the air felt. I inhaled deeply once again, feeling restless. Desperate. It was my mental state. I was on a mission, and I wasn’t going back home until I learned something.

The lodge came into my view just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Its silhouette sat small and dark against the lush green backdrop of the mountains. It looked the same as it did that night, rustic, cozy, and tucked away from civilization. The kind of place you go to escape. Or to die.

Jeremy McAllister had come here for both. And to fuck his sidepiece.

His ghost floated around in my mind, showing me flashes of that night, taunting me in my confusion, making this whole trip feel like a mistake. But it had to be done. For Rev. For my brothers.

For Santari .

I pulled onto the gravel lot and killed the engine, my eyes shifting from left to right.

My phone buzzed before I could open my door.

“Hey, Mama.”

“Hi, baby. What brilliant thing have you done this week?”

I chuckled at that. My parents really did have a false notion of who I am and what I do.

They pictured me in a tweed blazer with leather elbow patches, glasses on my face and a pipe in my mouth while I worked on the latest groundbreaking journal article and shined my tenure trophies—of which there’s no such thing.

I never bothered to correct them with the mundane truth, which is this: accolades mean nothing to me. I enjoy shaping young black minds. Not the bureaucracy. Not the red tape. Not the publish or perish rat race that ages you in dog years. Simply put, ain’t shit glamorous about being a professor.

But Mama wanted a win, so I gave her one. “I got invited to a conference in Berlin,” I said. “And I'm thinking about petitioning to get the Omega house historical status. ”

She inhaled sharply, then let out a squeal. “See! This is why I brag on you to the mother board at church.”

“Mama.”

“It’s true! Belinda’s son is in prison now, did you know that? And Ronda—“

“There but for the grace of God, right Mama?”

That calmed her down. “You’re right. I’m being judgmental.”

“Mm hm.”

“What else is going on?”

Well, let’s see. I’m in a four-way relationship with my dead frat brother’s little sister. I killed a man last week. I’m currently in the mountains doing research in the place we killed a man six months ago to see where I fucked up at.

No biggie.

“Just work. You know me.”

She sighed, and I knew what was coming next.

“And no, I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Her melodic laugh tickled my ears. I loved making Mama smile .

“Okay, but you know I’m not getting any younger. You’re past thirty, Storm. It’s time to start thinking about settling down.”

Yeah, it was time to go.

Because there was no telling where this thing with Santari was gonna go. She couldn’t settle down with all three of us. Or, shit, maybe she could. We hadn’t had that conversation. She could very well be open to it, and we just didn’t know because we were too busy fucking to have a real discussion.

Whatever the case, I wasn’t gonna figure it out right now, so I told Mama I loved her and promised to call her later.

I reached under the rear floorboard and pulled out my toughbook. It was black, beat up, and inconspicuous, just the way I liked it. I set it on my lap and powered it up, the blue glow of the screen lighting up the shadows around me.

My fingers moved automatically, like I had muscle memory, leading me past passwords and encrypted shells. I pulled up the archive from six months ago.

Job Log: 01.16.2 5

Target: J Mc

Location: SmokyMountainLodgeSK64b49t

The grainy drone footage made my head hurt. I clicked through the timestamped moments, watching as McAllister’s guards arrived. A black Denali with rental plates. One guard got out and scoped the tree line. I watched the cursor blink over his ugly face.

I zoomed in.

He looked right at where Cruz had been posted up. No reaction. He just moved on.

Why didn’t he clock us?

I flipped to the thermal overlays. Nothing of note there.

I opened the audio feed from our headsets. Wind. Gravel under boots. Velcro scratching. Our jokes and shit-talking.

I navigated to the bodycam footage. I rewatched our approach, the first shot, the takedown. McAllister went out quick, no last words. No anything. Fast forward to his side bitch running his pockets. Next, the takedown of the guards. All very routine.

I blew out a sigh .

This was getting me nowhere.

But something told me to go back. I went to the approach again, studying each frame until something caught my eye.

A flicker.

To the right of the lodge, behind the trees, a figure moved away. No shots fired, no impact, just…left without a trace.

I frowned at the screen, then opened the cell tower pings from the local intercept logs. There were nine registered pings in the area from known burners. Four for us. Four for the four guards.

The last one…unaccounted for.

The unknown burner pinged ten minutes after the hit, then again thirty minutes later a mile or so north of the lodge. Same signal strength. Which only meant one thing.

Someone had been watching.

That same someone didn’t intervene. Didn’t speak. They just left.

What the fuck?

My anger surged as I slammed my laptop shut. Something was off. Way fucking off.

Mild air greeted me the second I stepped out, wind blowing lazily through the trees. The ground crunched beneath my boots as I walked toward the entrance of the lodge. Whoever the new owners were had closed it for the season, but I didn’t need to go inside to get what I came here for.

I stopped near the entrance and closed my eyes so I could feel my way to the answer.

Behind my lids, I could still see the bodies of McAllister's soldiers all laid out on the ground.

I could still hear us bantering over the headsets, debating McAllister's drink choices.

I could hear the gunfire echoing off the trees.

I saw the blood staining the fresh snow. I smelled the gunpowder in the air.

And I felt the thud of Revere’s body as he hit the ground beside me in the bunker.

I opened my eyes, turning my head to scan the tree line. We all thought it had been clear that night. We would have sworn to it.

We’d been calculated. Precise, like always. McAllister was a man with too many enemies and not enough money to throw at his problems. It was easy. Clean shot, clean getaway .

But everything had gone to shit somewhere between the first trigger pull and the last breath Revere ever took.

And it had something to do with that mystery figure.

I stared at the mountain, focusing my thoughts on the moment shit felt off to me, when my mind and body screamed at me that I fucked up.

I exhaled sharply. The feeling was getting heavy.

It was an ambush.

We ran for cover as bullets flew, returning fire, moving on instinct. Made it to the bunker, and then…

I clenched my fists.

Rev’s sharp gasp sounded in my earpiece just before he staggered backward, blood blooming across his chest. I yelled his name, even though I knew in the moment that he was fading fast.

A shudder moved through me, beads of sweat breaking out across my forehead.

I remembered going to my knees next to Rev, my gun slipping through my fingers and hitting the dirt floor of the bunker.

I remembered rifling through the pockets of my hoodie, turning them inside out, desperate to find something to stop the bleeding.

Cruz and I lifting him up. His body going limp.

I was overwhelmed with grief. We bawled the whole way back, knowing our brother was gone. Titan pulled over twice, once so I could vomit, then a second time so he could. The pain of loss was unimaginable, knowing we were transporting a shell of a man who had once been a part of us.

Fuck.

Looking around again, I realized there were no answers for me here.

Except…maybe one, only it was more like a revelation.

I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my messages.

Updates on McAllister’s associates?

Cruz responded immediately.

Cruz

Still working. Nothing obvious yet, but I’m digging deeper.

Titan

You at the place?

Yeah. I’m getting the feeling this shit ain’t over. We need to watch our backs

Cruz

Noted

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, then put a hand on my chest. A persistent ache had settled there, making me wonder, just for a moment, if I was having a heart attack.

Then I remembered that articles I'd read about grief manifesting physically.

Titan and Cruz shook their heads at me when I told them that, but that's just me.

I have to analyze shit. Intellectualize it. That's the only way I can control it.

But this shit here…wasn't no controlling it. I didn't run grief; it was running me.

A tear rolled down my cheek. Just one, and then I turned back to my car. Inside, I gave the lodge one last glance. The mountains loomed large above it, the air thick with something I couldn’t quite name.

Not grief. Not even guilt.

I was uneasy for a reason.

This was a warning.