Chapter 14 Talon
FOURTEEN
TALON
Chase Harrington is still in my goddamn basement. If it were up to Jasper, we would have just murdered him and been done with it. But I fought for this—begged, even. Not out of mercy. Fuck mercy. Chase knows things. There’s shadows in his skull that could crack the Syndicate wide open.
He’s our key, rusted and bent, but still turning.
So, that’s why, for weeks now, we’ve been taking turns going at him, trying to get him to admit to something. My phone buzzes on the table. It’s our group chat.
Mara:
Beck and Rook are driving me back to the safe house.
I smile and flip my phone over. It buzzes a few more times, probably from Dredyn or Jasper answering Mara.
They’ve been circling her like starved wolves since her brother brokered that fragile truce, letting her slip back to campus for classes.
As if lectures on psych or lit could shield her from the storm brewing.
Mara’s the gravitational pull now. This fragile, fierce core we orbit—Jasper, Dredyn, and me.
She’s the reason my blood runs hot, and there’s an ache that never dulls.
That’s why we’ve been digging in the dark, piecing together scraps on the Syndicate, the elite puppeteers, pulling strings from ivory towers while their OCK muscle—us, the alumni grunts—bleed in the dirt.
Psi Theta Omega’s the velvet glove over their iron fist, but we’re done bending.
It’s coming… their “fuck you” to our rebellion.
I pull up a chair in front of Chase and sit down. I’ve spent about the past hour beating the shit out of him while asking questions. I figured it’s about time to give him a break. His head lolls forward, his chin slick with blood and spit. The stitches in his hand are almost ready to come out.
I’m the one who’s been making sure it’s kept clean.
His breaths come out wet and ragged through the mangled mess of his nose. I lean in, elbows digging into my knees, and drink in the ruin we’ve sculpted from his pretty-boy face. The guy who snuffed out Jasper’s sister like she was nothing. Who thought he could chain Mara and call her his.
Defeated.
Mine to break.
“You ready to talk yet, pretty boy?”
He tries to lift his head, but fails, only a whimper leaking out of him. I reach out and hook two fingers under his chin, forcing his gaze up toward me. His good eye’s bloodshot, swimming in terror. God, that fear... it’s a drug, flooding my veins.
“You know what I love most about this part?” I murmur, thumb brushing the split in his lower lip.
He jerks, chains rattling.
“When they finally realize no one’s coming. Not the Syndicate. Not daddy’s money. It’s just me, and I’ve got all the time in the world.”
His throat works the lump down. “Valen.”
“Valen Mercer. The officer over at PTO?”
He nods. “They are very close. Or... were, as kids.”
“What about him?”
“He’s not who you think he is. And before you accuse me of ulterior motives, I’m not lying this time.”
I nearly bark a laugh
He ignores it, bulldozing on. “I know his family, or at least... I know where he comes from. There are rumors, persistent ones.”
My fingers drum the armrest. “Rumors about what?”
“That he’s the son of the current Syndicate leader. Illegitimate, maybe. Raised adjacent, groomed in the shadows. Most children from high ranks are usually separated from their biological parents for safety reasons.”
My blood turns to ice, then fire.
“And you’re telling me this out of the goodness of your heart?”
“I’m telling you this because if he is the Syndicate, then Mara is already safe. Valen would never let anything happen to her, just as long as you three leave her alone.”
Leave her alone.
The words ignite something primal, a roar in my skull. As if we could rip ourselves from her gravity. As if she’s not etched into my bones.
Rage floods me, but I lock it down, releasing his chin instead. His head drops forward and I stand slowly, walking to the metal table and picking up the straight razor. Chase hears the scrape of metal and shifts uncomfortably.
I turn back.
“You just bought yourself another hour.”
He shakes his head, trying to ignore my threat, but I crouch in front of him, letting the razor rest lightly against his cheek. “But if you’re lying—if this is just another game to drive a wedge between us—I’ll peel the truth out of you, one strip at a time.”
I let the blade kiss skin, just enough to bead blood. “So, you better hope to fuck that you’re right.”
If Chase isn’t bullshitting—if Valen’s old man is the Syndicate’s crown—then every glance Valen’s thrown Mara’s way was intel.
Every moment he spent near her was a leash being measured.
And the hit coming for us—for her—might carry his signature.
I leave Chase down in the basement and move upstairs and wait for Mara to come back home.
I have to confront her.
I have to look her in the eye and watch something fracture when I say his name.
I have to find the truth.
She bursts through the door within the hour, Beck and Rook flanking her like shadows.
They exchange nods with me—tight, loaded—before peeling off to handle the fallout on frat row.
We backed DSN in some petty skirmish, but campus is buzzing now, ripples turning to waves.
Better they play cleanup... it keeps us ghosts here.
The less exposed the better.
Mara drops her bags with a thud, kicks off her Mary Jane boots—those damn things that make her legs look endless—and perches on the couch, legs tucked under her. Her scent hits me—vanilla and storm—cutting through the basement stink still on my skin.
“Everything okay?” she asks, voice soft but probing, eyes scanning my face like she can read the chaos etched there.
I don’t sit. Can’t. “How long have you known Valen?”
She frowns, brows knitting. “Since I was born. Why?”
“Humor me.”
“He and my brother were glued together. Our moms joked they were triplets. He basically lived at our house—sleepovers, holidays, all of it.”
“And you trusted him.”
“I trust him,” she snaps, fire sparking in her eyes.
My gut twists. “Mara, has Valen ever talked to you about the Syndicate?”
Her laugh erupts. “No. God, Talon, he hates that world.”
“Hates it? Or learned to navigate it without a ripple?”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
She shoots up. “Why are you asking me this?”
“Because his name came up.” I step closer. “And not in a way I like.”
“Valen is safe, always has been. He’s one of the few who never wanted anything from me—never tried to control me, never saw me as a prize.”
Possession roars through me, hot and savage. She’s ours—cracked open, claimed in blood and fire—and the idea of another man holding her trust, her childhood crush? It scorches, like acid on open wounds.
Then she tosses out, “Besides, I had a massive crush on him when I was little. Thought I’d marry him someday.”
“Did you now?” My voice drops low, lethal. Inside, I’m mapping every vein in his body, every place a blade could slip. His blood would look much prettier on the fucking floor...
She waves it off, dismissively. “I was eight, and it doesn’t matter. He’s gay.”
I stare, the revelation landing like a dull thud amid the storm.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because every person you love becomes leverage in our world.”
“Are you not listening? Valen would never hurt me.”
“I’m not saying he would.” I close the gap, heat pulsing between us. “I’m saying if he’s dirty, he doesn’t have a choice.”
She shakes her head. “This is insane.”
“Then prove it.”
She stills, breath hitching.
“Go talk to him. Ask about his father.”
Her eyes narrow to slits. “You want me to interrogate him?”
“I want you to listen. See if the pieces don’t fit.”
“And if I say no?”
“Then we stumble around blindly.” My hands itch to touch her, to anchor to her skin. “The Syndicate thrives on proximity. Childhood bonds? That’s their favorite trap.”
“You’re turning my past into a weapon.” Her voice cracks. “Rewriting my childhood because you’re paranoid.”
I crowd her space, our breaths mingling, her pulse thrumming under my gaze. “You’re angry,” I murmur. “Why?”
She scoffs, but her eyes betray the storm. “Because you’re accusing one of the only men in my life who never tried to control me.”
Irrational fury boils at the idea of Valen being her safe harbor, at her for defending him, at us for being the wolves she chose over the light. We’re the monsters, possessive and cracked, but she cracked us wider.
“If he’s clean, proving it shields him.” I trace her jaw with my thumb. “The Syndicate loves those plays. Old friends make perfect pawns.”
She’s not glass—fragile and waiting to shatter. She’s steel, forged in fire, and I need her blade-sharp now.
She paces, conflict carving lines in her face—doubt warring with loyalty, desire clashing with dread. Finally, she stops, locking eyes with mine. “Fine. I’ll handle it. Alone. No bullying, no shadows. He’ll know what’s up if he’s a part of everything.”
Dredyn slips in from the hall then. “She isn’t going alone.”
I cut him a look. “If we go in hot, he’ll clam up. If he’s innocent, we torch the bridge anyway.”
Mara turns her head to look at me. “And if he’s not?”
Hesitation grips me, brief and cold. “Then we know our next mark.” The words taste like blood. It’s a promise of violence, of unraveling the Syndicate thread by thread, starting with the ghost in her past.
The air thickens, charged with the unspoken—betrayal’s edge, obsession’s grip.
We stand there, a triangle of tension, the hunt closing in.
Valen’s name hangs like smoke, and I feel the feral pull.
College kid turned predator, clawing for the throne.
One wrong word, and I’ll tear it all down for her.
Always for her.