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thirty-eight

Davey stepped out of the sleek black car that had been sent to WSW headquarters for him and eyed The Echelon’s entrance. He rolled his shoulders, exhaling slow and controlled. Unarmed. Outnumbered. Walking straight into a den of vipers.

Every instinct in his body told him to turn back.

He ignored it.

Because Rowan was in there.

The lobby was exactly what he expected—power wrapped in a velvet chokehold. There were more black-clad soldiers, like the ones from the tunnel, stationed at key points. A force meant to be invisible, but he knew exactly what they were. He didn’t recognize any of them, but one caught his eye. Broad frame, dark eyes, standing too still.

Something nagged at him, but he pushed it aside as Malcolm Raines stepped forward. From what Daphne had managed to dig up on Praetorian, he knew Raines was Alexander Stirling’s right-hand man. He also knew the guy was a twisted fuck. If Rowan had spent any time alone with the man, she might not be in good shape.

“This way,” Raines said, voice clipped, and held out an arm toward the elevators. There was a small spatter of blood on the edge of his sleeve. Fresh, but it didn’t appear to be his.

It took everything in Davey not to react. His stomach clenched, but he forced himself to keep walking, keep breathing.

She was alive.

She had to be.

Across the room, Atlas Frost lounged at the bar, but he ignored the woman all but throwing herself into his lap and instead stared at the closed elevator doors with narrow-eyed intensity. When Davey and Raines reached the elevator, he met Davey’s gaze and nodded.

A greeting or a warning? It was anyone’s guess.

The ride up was suffocating. The mirrored walls reflected Raines’s smug sneer. Bastard was enjoying this.

The doors slid open, and Raines led him to a penthouse guarded by two more of the black-clad soldiers. One of them opened the door and motioned Davey inside.

Rowan.

She was sitting in a high-backed leather chair, clenching an empty glass in her hand. Bruised, her lip bleeding, but very much alive.

Thank God.

Their gazes locked, and relief slammed into him so hard it almost knocked him off balance.

Her posture was stiff, wary—but not broken. Anger burned in her gaze, and that alone let him breathe again.

“Mr. Wilde.” The voice was calm, almost pleasant. “Thanks for joining us.”

“You didn’t give much choice, Stirling.” Davey tore his gaze away from Rowan and turned to the man standing near the windows, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, silver-streaked hair neatly combed back.

“No, I didn’t,” Stirling said smoothly. “Sit. It’s time we talked.”

Davey didn’t move. “You could’ve tried that before resorting to violence.”

“Violence hadn’t been my original plan.”

“You put a hit on me and strapped a bomb to my cousin.”

“Hm, yes. Things escalated.” Stirling crossed to the bar and refilled his own glass before pouring another and holding it out. “Let’s get to the point, shall we?”

Davey didn’t reach for the drink and instead crossed his arms. “Yeah, let’s. I want you to stop attacking me, my friends, and my family. What do you want?”

Stirling set the drink on the coffee table as he sat across from Rowan. He leaned back and sipped his drink, watching Davey with an almost clinical detachment. “Not you.” His gaze shifted to Rowan before turning dismissively away again. “And not even her. I’ll let you both walk out of here if you agree to my terms.”

Davey frowned. This wasn’t what he expected. “What terms?”

“Give me Cade Wilde.”

Cade?

The demand didn’t make sense.

Davey’s gut twisted, his instincts screaming that there was a larger play in motion, one he couldn’t see yet.

He inhaled slowly. “No. My family is off the table.”

“You misunderstand, Mr. Wilde. This is not a negotiation. It’s a transaction. Cade for Ms. Bristow.”

“Then you’re leaving empty-handed,” Davey shot back.

Stirling’s expression remained calm, but there was something darker lurking beneath. He flicked his fingers, and Raines moved to stand behind Rowan with a gun in hand. He pressed the barrel against Rowan’s temple.

Davey’s heart slammed against his ribs.

“I wonder,” Raines mused, “just how stubborn you’ll be with her brains splattered on your shirt.”

Rowan went utterly still, her jaw tight, but her eyes locked on his. “Don’t, Davey. I’m not worth it.”

How could she think that? How could she not know by now that she was worth everything to him? He’d give up Cade for her in a heartbeat. He’d give up WSW. Hell, he’d burn down the world for her if she asked him, too.

He forced his attention back to Stirling. “Why do you want Cade?”

“That’s for me to know.” Stirling sipped his drink and smiled like this was amusing to him. “This is mercy, Mr. Wilde. Take it while it’s still on the table.”

Davey let out a slow breath. His grip on control was desperate and razor-thin, and he felt like he might snap at any second. His pulse was a hammer in his ears, and his muscles coiled so tight they ached. His gaze flicked from Stirling to Raines and back to Rowan, measuring every angle, every risk. He needed an opening, a weakness. But there was nothing.

He could take Raines, but not before the bastard pulled the trigger. He could go for Stirling, but that wouldn’t stop the dozen black-clad operatives stationed throughout the building.

No clear exits.

No easy outs.

Just a line he had to walk without slipping, and backing down wasn’t an option. If he let them see weakness now, they’d exploit it the next time.

Because there would be a next time.

His skin prickled with sweat beneath his shirt, and his muscles ached from holding tension too long, from fighting the raw, animal urge to lunge. To do something.

But he couldn’t win this through physical force. He had to talk his way out, and he suddenly wished Elliot was in his ear. He could use his brother’s calm logic right now, but it was just him, and he couldn’t afford to fuck this up.

What would Elliot tell him?

Don’t panic. Think, Davey. Outplay them. Trust your gut.

All his instincts told him the same thing: Stirling was bluffing.

“You call this mercy?” His voice was low, lethal. “You put a gun to her head and make demands, and now you expect me to thank you for sparing her?”

Stirling laughed softly. “I expect you to understand the reality of your situation and that this is the best offer you’re going to get.”

Davey held the man’s gaze, hate boiling up to fill every inch of him. “Let’s be real. You need this just as much as I do. Otherwise, you wouldn’t still be talking. So, yes, this is a negotiation. Call off your rabid attack dog, and then we can talk like civilized men.”

Stirling’s expression didn’t change, but Davey caught the slight pause before he nodded to Raines. He hadn’t liked being called out like that.

Scowling, Raines backed up a step. He removed the gun from Rowan’s temple but still kept it trained on her.

Stirling smoothly regained his composure. “All right. Let’s negotiate. My offer remains the same. Give me Cade, and you and Rowan walk out of here unharmed.”

“What about the contract on my head?”

“I’ll remove it.”

“And Rowan’s family will be safe?”

Stirling exhaled like this was all a big annoyance to him and waved a dismissive hand. “I have no interest in them.”

Davey uncrossed his arms, trying to look casual despite the adrenaline roaring through him. “You’re not getting Cade. What else do you want?”

Stirling leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Your bravado is impressive, but since we’re being ‘real’ with each other, at least admit you don’t trust him. You want him gone. It’ll make your life easier.”

“Maybe, I’m not giving him to you like a goddamn Christmas gift.”

“Okay, then fire him.” Stirling spread his hands. ”It’s win-win. You get rid of him, and it gives me the opportunity to recruit him.”

Davey forced himself to stay loose, tilting his head slightly as if considering the offer, like he might actually be weighing it. But he wasn’t. He was watching, waiting, searching for cracks in Stirling’s carefully constructed mask, all while keeping Raines’s gun in his periphery.

One wrong move, one miscalculation, and Raines would pull the trigger just to prove a point. The bastard was itching for an excuse.

“You really want Cade that bad?”

No reaction.

“You could’ve gone after him years ago, but you didn’t. Why now? What changed?”

It was subtle, but Davey caught the barest flicker in Stirling’s expression. A shift in his posture. An almost imperceptible glance toward the black-clad soldiers stationed by the door.

Gotcha.

Davey laughed, genuinely amused. “If you think you can turn Cade into one of your mindless drones, you don’t know him. He doesn’t do orders. Or rules.”

Stirling’s smile simmered with irritation. “As I said before, my reasons are inconsequential. What matters is your answer.”

Davey let the silence stretch, enjoying the way Stirling’s mask slipped by degrees as each second ticked by. Then, finally, he inclined his head. “I could agree to your terms, but Cade is family. To betray family, I’m going to need more from you.”

Stirling’s eyebrows rose. “More than your lives?”

Davey didn’t blink. “Yes. Because we both know Rowan and I are already walking out of here alive. Killing us in your suite would start a war with Praetorian on one side and WSW and HORNET on the other. Don’t need to be a psychic to figure out how badly that would end for you. It’s why you haven’t done it already. So, yeah, I want more. I want a full list of Praetorian’s moles inside WSW. And if you have any in HORNET, I want their names, too. Every last one. Names, locations, and confirmation they’ve been pulled out. And I want proof that no further action will be taken against us or our families.”

“That’s ambitious.”

“It’s non-negotiable. You want Cade? Then I want to know I’m not getting another knife in the back next week like I got tonight.”

Stirling tapped his fingers against his glass again, considering, then set the drink down with a loud thunk. “You already have Broderick O’Connell.”

Davey leaned forward, his voice low. “Brody is dead. And if you don’t pull the rest of your operatives, I’ll make sure you lose every fucking one of them.”

Raines stiffened, his grip on the gun tightening as if waiting for a signal.

Stirling raised a hand, stilling him. “What do you think, Rowan?” He turned his attention to her, ignoring Davey’s threat. “You think we’ll go to war over you?”

“Not over me.” Rowan rose from her seat to stand beside Davey, and he felt her hand brush his. It steadied him, reminded him that they were in this together.

Hatred burned in her eyes when she refocused on Stirling, but her smile was ice cold. “But I do think you’re lying when you say you don’t care about my family. They scare you, and they should.”

Stirling sat back, his fingers steepled in thought. “Your terms will take time.”

“You have twenty-four hours,” Davey said.

“And Cade?”

“Cade stays with us until I get what I want.”

“You’re in no position to impose such demands.”

“Then shoot us,” Davey challenged. “See what happens.”

Stirling’s eyes narrowed to calculating slits. “You’re asking me to trust you,” he said slowly, testing the words like they were foreign.

“Yep.”

“And in return, I get nothing but your word.”

“Yep.”

Stirling’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, Davey thought the man might actually snap. But then he stood and straightened his suit before holding out a hand. “We have an agreement. I’ll remove my operatives in the next twenty-four hours, and you’ll remove Cade from your payroll.”

“And you’ll remove the contract on me?”

“It’s already done.”

“Then we agree.” Davey accepted the handshake, but he didn’t relax. Not yet. Not until they were out of this place.

He took Rowan’s hand the moment he released Stirling’s, and they turned toward the door.

And Stirling took his final shot: “You think you won something today, Wilde. But trust me—one day, you’ll realize what you lost.”

Davey didn’t break stride. Didn’t turn. Didn’t give Stirling the satisfaction of seeing his reaction. “The only thing I lost today is my patience with you.”

The elevator doors slid shut, sealing them away from Stirling and his men, and Rowan exhaled in a rush.

Davey turned to her, pulling her into his chest, locking his arms tightly around her. She tensed for half a second, then melted into him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder. He felt her breath hitch, the tension she’d been holding finally cracking just a little.

“Are you okay?” he murmured, voice rough.

Her fingers curled into his shirt. “Not yet. But I will be.”

His grip tightened. “You scared me, Hellcat.”

She pulled back just enough to look at him. “I knew you’d come.”

Jesus, she was beautiful, even covered in bruises. She was stubborn and fierce and everything he’d ever wanted.

“Always.” He cupped the side of her face gently, brushing his thumb over a fresh cut on her cheekbone, then leaned down to kiss her. He couldn’t take it as deep as he wanted, couldn’t brand himself on her like he wanted, but for these few stolen moments as the elevator descended, he poured everything he had into that kiss—relief, fear, desperation, and love. So much love it threatened to overwhelm him.

For just a moment, the chaos faded, and all that mattered was that she was here. Safe. Alive.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. “I never want to see a gun to your head again.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at her bruised lips. “Next time, you’ll have to look away.”

It was such a perfectly Rowan response, and even as much as he hated the way she plowed into danger, it was also why he loved her.

Still, he groaned. “Next time?”

“There will always be a next time.”

“Because my hellcat doesn’t know how to live a danger-free life.”

She exhaled shakily and drew back, searching his gaze. “I told you I didn’t. I told you a normal, white picket fence life is not for me. You said you didn’t care. You said?—”

He stopped her with another short, hard kiss. “I know what I said. And I meant it. If I have to fight through hell, I’d rather do it with you. I want you by my side. Always. Forever. Through sickness and health and megalomaniacs.”

Rowan gave him a tired smirk, resting her head against his chest. “I love you.”

He let out a slow breath, his hand sliding up her back, fingers tangling in her hair as he held her close. “I love you too, Hellcat. More than you’ll ever know.”

She tipped her head back to look at him, something softer flickering in her bruised eyes. “Even if I drive you insane?”

His lips brushed against her temple. “Especially because you drive me insane.”

Rowan huffed a quiet laugh, her grip tightening on his jacket. “Good. Because you’re stuck with me.”

“Exactly where I want to be.” He leaned in to kiss her again, but the elevator dinged, and he reluctantly released her as the doors slid open. They stepped out into the opulent lobby, and he was hyper-aware of the eyes on them. The black-clad soldiers hadn’t moved, including the one that had set off his warning bells on the way up.

Rowan leaned into his side and whispered, “Stirling called that guy Revenant One. He led the ambush in the tunnel, and he’s ice cold.” She hesitated, then added, “He took Weston down without blinking like it was nothing—almost like he was programmed for it. And when he grabbed me…” She swallowed. “He’s impossibly strong, Davey. He held me there and made me watch as his men beat Sabin to death.”

“Sabin’s very much alive and still cracking jokes. Weston, too. They’ll be okay.”

“Oh, thank God.”

He glanced back at the soldier, at the broad frame, the dark, dead eyes behind the black mask, the way he stood too still. Something familiar there. Something that itched in the back of his mind.

Revenant One was trouble.

His hand found the small of Rowan’s back, a protective gesture as much as a reassuring one. He guided her across the gleaming marble floor of the lobby. If anyone noticed her bruises or split lip, they quickly turned away and minded their own business.

Just another night at The Echelon.

Atlas Frost was still at the bar, swirling the same glass of whiskey. His eyes tracked their movement, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. He raised his glass in a silent toast as they passed.

Yeah, Fuck Frost.

Whatever game he was playing, now wasn’t the time to confront it.

But as they stepped into the night, Stirling’s words whispered back through his mind.

One day, you’ll realize what you lost.

He had a sinking feeling that day was already here.