Page 25

Nathan Bradshaw meets me at the reservoir after his shift. The roll of his cruiser’s tires on the dirt lot reaches my ears at six o’clock on the dot.

We’re not at the falls, where we had previously met.

This time, I picked the location. I arrived early, scouted ahead.

Artemis spying on my meeting with him—and to learn of it later—was embarrassing .

I should’ve kept my eyes open for that kind of thing.

Should’ve known that she would be suspicious of the sheriff.

He’s pushing too hard.

I think he has a habit of leading with his greed, not his brain. Not a desirable trait in a stand-up sheriff, but acceptable for what I need of him.

I stand with my hands in my pockets on the rocky shore. The gun in its holster at my hip shouldn’t surprise the sheriff, but I can practically feel his intake of breath when he spots it. I don’t look back, but I picture his hand landing on his weapon. Not necessarily to draw it, just out of habit.

Because he doesn’t trust me, and I don’t trust him.

Keeping my back to him is either an act of stupidity or power.

The reservoir, which supplies water to Sterling Falls, stretches out ahead of us. It’s a protected body of water. No boats. No fishing. No swimming.

“You called?” the sheriff drawls.

I smirk to myself but drop it when I face him. “Tell me about the body at Olympus.”

He wears his uniform, the dark-green helmet-hat hiding his red-brown hair. Sure enough, his hand is balanced on his holstered weapon. He seems at ease on the rocks, however. So he’s either a great liar or he doesn’t think I’m a threat.

“Why should I do that?” he replies.

I scoff. “We have a quid pro quo relationship, Bradshaw.”

“Oh? And what do I get out of this?”

“You get a warning.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not sure I buy that, Laurent.”

I sigh. Getting him to turn over Reese’s mother’s phone records was easy. I should’ve expected him to pump the brakes once things got too real. Too much like the war zone Sterling Falls once was.

I wish I had been around to see it. It would help me understand Artemis and Saint a little more. They’re both gun-shy about the Cyclopes.

Who wouldn’t be?

“The Hell Hounds’ compound bomb was a warning, too,” I say. “But the wrong kind. They didn’t listen to me at first. We had to send a stronger message. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

For a second, he doesn’t know what to do. His mouth opens and closes, his face reddening.

“Tell me about the body at Olympus,” I say again.

He takes a breath. “One of their informants. Jace King reported him missing a few weeks prior…”

I motion for him to continue.

“The coroner’s report came back. He overdosed on heroin, and that combined with severe trauma to the face and neck…” He looks away. “One eye was completely removed. The other was… disfigured.”

“Disfigured how?”

“The heroin was injected into it.” He shakes his head.

“Turned my stomach just looking at him. Otherwise, he was completely identifiable. Wolfe James gave us his name on a video call. There were no other toxins in his blood… but there were signs that he was held hostage in the time between his disappearance and his body being found.”

Gabriel is going off the rails.

I nod once. The sheriff contemplates me for a moment, seeming to wait for my promised warning.

“One more thing,” I say.

He stiffens.

“Did you find anything incriminating at Bow & Arrow?”

“Tem’s club?” He pauses. “The computers were sent to an independent company for analysis. I don’t have anything else.”

Someone pushed him for that… and here I thought I was the only one applying pressure.

“Thanks, Sheriff.” I check my watch. “You’ll be just in time if you hurry.”

Alarm sweeps over his features. “Hurry where?”

“To the docks.” I smile. “The last deep-sea fishing boat should be docking as we speak.”

“So?”

“So… you should meet the newest Sterling Falls residents, don’t you agree?”

He swears under his breath.

Deep-sea fishing boats stay out for a month at a time, sometimes more. They have a relatively robust crew, since there are so many duties to keep a boat like that in running order in the middle of nowhere.

But that’s just the ruse.

In reality, the boats have been diverting to Emerald Cove, and the crews replaced with my guys. Every ship coming into port, for months. Out with the old, in with the new.

Except this is the last of them.

They’re my men. They listen to me, they trust me. Only with trepidation do they follow Gabriel’s orders, because they know me to be rational. Sane.

Even in this insanity we’re about to begin.

I follow him to the parking lot. His pace quickens, and he bypasses my bike—a new acquirement—and hastily climbs into his cruiser. He guns the engine and spins the wheel, sending gravel skittering toward me, and races back down the way he came.

My phone is already in my hand.

I make a phone call. One I’ve been itching to make since the sheriff showed his proclivity for bribes, for weakness . This town has elected him again, knowing everything that happened could’ve been stopped from the beginning if he did his job.

“He’s on his way,” I say when my call is picked up. “Take it.”

I stash my phone in a zipped pocket and climb on the bike. It used to be owned by a Hell Hound, but… well, he won’t be riding. He’ll probably barely miss the bike.

At the end of the road, I follow the sheriff’s path south. But I take a left and zip through the empty streets of West Falls.

The citizens understand.

There must be lingering trauma here for them, too.

I want to tell them that the takeover will be peaceful. That once we’re established, restrictions and roadblocks will ease. They’ll barely notice our presence.

But it’s a lie even I can’t stomach.

There’s no easing into this, no soft approach in the middle of the night. We’ve been doing that for months—this is the time for fast action, for violence. It’s the surge of power that scares people, but it’s the quiet after that which is the most dangerous.

I fly through the center of Sterling Falls and coast to a stop outside the large marble building that houses both the city council and the sheriff’s department.

There are still people working at this hour.

A whole building full of them, I’d reckon, who all follow the sheriff’s lead. Plus extras, like the city council.

My nose wrinkles.

The sheriff is a problem. He’s always been a problem. Corrupt, vile. Some, like Artemis, might argue that he has a heart.

I know differently.

He follows money. Always has, always will. He would stab his sister in the back if it meant saving his own skin. We’re going to find out very, very soon if my opinion of him is correct.

I look across toward where three of my men sit on bikes, and I gesture for them to continue.

They each rev their engines, and the answering call echoes around the building.

From all sides, the motorcycles flood in.

My masked men—not like Olympus, where they cover their eyes and leave the rest blank, they have bandanas tied around the lower portion of their faces—stream off the bikes and into city hall.

In a matter of moments, screams and the sound of breaking glass are carried out on the wind. Flames flicker in the first-floor windows, and suit-wearing men and women sprint outside.

More of my men wait for them, corral them.

Soon, black smoke billows from the windows. It represents the deterioration of the office, of Sterling Falls’ government. We’re going to burn everything rotten to the ground, and they’ll be lucky if we deem Sterling Falls worthy enough to start over.

Or maybe we’ll just revel in the ash.