Chapter 16 Mara
SIXTEEN
MARA
CJ drives in silence, eyes on the road, giving me the privacy I desperately need but don’t want.
Because privacy means being alone with what Valen just told me.
And what he told me is rewiring every synapse in my brain, re-contextualizing a lifetime of memories until I don’t know what was real and what was performance.
Three men—DSN, OCK, PTO. Three bloodlines.
I press my forehead against the cold window, watching the city blur.
Three fathers. One of them belongs to Dredyn, Talon, or Jasper.
My hands curl into fists in my lap, nails biting crescents into my palms. The locket Zane gave me, the one with Dredyn’s threatening note inside, rests against my collarbone.
A reminder that the men I love are capable of violence.
That they come from violence.
But which one comes from this violence?
Think, Mara. Think it through.
James Steele—Dredyn’s father. The most obvious candidate. Security magnate, Syndicate enforcer, the man who literally manufactures the violence that keeps their empire running.
I remember meeting James once, at a gala, when I was sixteen. Even then, surrounded by senators and diplomats, he radiated danger.
But Dredyn hates him—has always hated him.
He spent his entire life trying to be different, better, less monstrous than the man who raised him.
Would he have kept this secret? That his father sits at the table?
It’s hard to believe when he’s spent years learning to be his father’s weapon while secretly sharpening himself into a blade aimed at James’s throat.
Anthony Thorne—Jasper’s father. CEO of Thorne Technologies, the company that manufactures the surveillance equipment the Syndicate uses. Facial recognition software, communications encryption, those horrifying silicone masks that let operatives wear stolen faces.
And then there’s Senator Michael Reed—Talon’s father. The politician. The one who doesn’t seem to fit the pattern of violence and technology and security. Just a senator from a good family, climbing the ladder toward cabinet positions and committee chairmanships.
Except...
Except politicians are the ones who write the laws the Syndicate operates around.
Who confirm judges who’ll look the other way, who approve budgets that fund agencies that can be corrupted. Who shake hands with international leaders while their constituents disappear in shipping containers.
The Syndicate needs someone in government. Someone with access, influence, and the ability to bury investigations and redirect attention.
Someone like Michael Reed.
I try to remember if I’ve ever met him, but Talon’s kept his family at arm’s length since we got together. “They don’t get to have you,” he said once, and I thought it was sweet. Now, I wonder if it was strategic.
Talon, who’s brilliant at reading people, at knowing exactly what they need to hear. What would he do if he discovered his father was part of the Syndicate leadership?
He’d weaponize it.
Find a way to turn it into advantage, into leverage.
And he wouldn’t tell us until he’d figured out how to spin it into something we could use.
If Michael Reed is Syndicate leadership … Talon’s already working an angle.
CJ clears his throat, pulling me from the spiral. “We’re about fifteen minutes out,” he says. “You okay back there?”
“Fine,” I lie.
“You’ve been quiet.”
“Thinking.”
“About?”
About which of my lovers is hiding the fact that his father is a monster. About whether trust means anything when we’re all keeping secrets. About how Valen just handed me a grenade and asked me to juggle it.
“Nothing important,” I say, but he doesn’t believe me. I can see it in the tension of his shoulders, the way his eyes flick to the rearview mirror. But he doesn’t push, and I’m grateful.
A few minutes later, we’re back at the safe house. CJ pulls Talon’s SUV into the garage and we both get out.
Inside, I strip off my coat and boots in the mudroom. The cold still clings to my hair as I shake it loose. CJ steps in behind me just long enough to tug off his gloves.
“In one piece,” he mutters, more to himself than anyone else.
The kitchen light spills warm and bright as we step through the hallway and into the kitchen. The island is cluttered with open pizza boxes, the contents steaming, wings piled high in foil, and bottles of beer sweating rings onto the granite.
Dredyn leans against the counter, massive arms crossed, a half-eaten slice dangling from his fingers. Grease shines on his bottom lip, but his dark eyes lock on me the second I appear.
“There she is,” he rumbles. “Thought Valen might’ve kept you longer. Food’s getting cold, Hellcat.”
CJ lifts two fingers in a casual salute their way. “I’ll clear out. Text if you need me.”
He doesn’t wait for permission or a thank you, just grabs his keys, the front door opening and closing a minute later. Somewhere outside, his engine turns over and fades into the storm.
We’re alone, again.
“He couldn’t wait,” Jasper signs as he hands me a beer straight from the fridge.
“Sit,” Talon says, already pulling out the barstool beside his. His tone is light, but his hand stays on the back of the chair until I take it. “Eat. Then we can talk.”
Jasper sets a fresh plate in front of the stool.
I slide onto a stool beside Talon, hips brushing, and shove a slice of Harry’s pizza in my mouth.
“At least this isn’t your attempt at cooking,” I mutter to Dredyn.
He barks a laugh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Picky as fuck. You’re the one who can’t boil water without committing arson, babe.”
Talon chuckles low. “Yeah, Princess. Last time, the house smelled like smoke for days.”
Jasper signs without looking up. “Pasta glue.”
I flip them off, laughing, despite myself. “Assholes. All of you.”
But the laugh dies on my tongue and is replaced by dread.
One of their fathers.
Dredyn leans against the counter. “So, Hellcat, what’d the pretty boy say?”
I chew slowly, buying seconds, cheese stretching in strings. “Nothing,” I lie, my tone flat. “Just old shit.”
Talon’s hand settles on my knee beneath the counter, his thumb circling slowly. “Bullshit,” Talon murmurs, lips brushing my ear. “You’re shaking. Tell us.”
“Valen upset you.”
I pull away too fast, stool scraping the floor with a loud screech. “I’m fine.”
I’m not. My chest tightens viciously, breath catching. I can’t tell them. I can’t drop the bomb that one of their fathers might be the monster Valen wants dead. I can’t watch their faces fracture, or worse, watch them lie.
“Just... drop it,” I say. “Please.”
Dredyn’s eyes narrow. “Fine. For now. Eat.”
“We’ll circle back,” Talon adds. “Whenever you’re ready.”
Dredyn wipes his hands on a napkin. “Okay, okay. Fine. We will get to that. For now, you still owe me a rematch.”
“Oh yeah?” I scoff. “Last time, I had you sweating.”
Talon’s brow arches. “Careful, Dre. She’s feisty tonight.”
Jasper leans back against the wall, arms crossed, watching all of us.
We’ve been doing this every night.
Sparring.
Dredyn stands, towering over me, his grin feral. “Ring. Now. Let’s burn whatever’s eating you off.”
The four of us head down the basement. We moved Chase into a side room in the basement and reclaimed the space in the basement for our fighting ring, since the boys haven’t been participating in fight nights recently. They’ve left that up to the other guys in the frat.
Chase knows to stay quiet when we’re down here. If not, one of them will gag him and leave him without food. At least if he stays quiet, he gets to eat.
Sometimes, though, when I’m sparring with the guys, we hear him anyway. It’s because he knows I’m within earshot and he’s hoping a “help” might persuade me to convince the guys to let him go.
Unfortunately for Chase, I’m the one who wants to see him suffer worse than the guys do.
It’s almost a mercy though, to keep him here.
If we took him back to PTO, I’m certain he would already be dead.
Or worse, kept alive to be made an example of.
The Syndicate doesn’t do second chances.
His life is basically over, he just hasn’t come to that conclusion yet.
He’s on borrowed time, currently ticking down in his concrete cell.
I don’t feel sympathy.
What I do feel is the rush that hits me when my feet hit the floor of the basement after climbing down the steps and realizing that I get a chance to go toe to toe with Dredyn.
He’s my favorite opponent, because he never pretends to be gentle. The other two usually go softer on me. Dredyn makes me earn every hit I land.
Quickly, I shed my socks off and duck under the ropes, stepping onto the mat. Dredyn ducks in across from me, already pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside. The low light catches the lines of his body, making heat rush to my core as he rolls his neck once and grins at me.
“Ready to eat mat, Hellcat?”
“Ready to get beat by a girl?”
Talon leans on the ropes. “Don’t break her too badly. Let’s leave that for later.”
Jasper perches on the bench, forearms on his thighs. “Kick his ass.”
We start circling.
I strike first—jab fast and vicious.
He blocks. “That all you got?”
He doesn’t counter, just watches.
It pisses me off.
“Scared to hit back?” I snap, driving a hook into his ribs. My knuckles sing.
He grunts, pleased. “Nah. Enjoying the view.”
“Pervert.”
“Getting bold,” he rumbles, finally swinging lightly.
“Getting lethal.”
We move on instinct, pivoting and moving around the mat until a sweat breaks out on both of our foreheads.
“She’s faster tonight,” Talon says.
Dredyn surges, reminding me who owns this space. “Come on, Hellcat. Hit me like you mean it.”
I do.
We crash together and the mat slams into my back hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. I end up straddling him, hands braced on his shoulders, sweat-slick skin burning under my palms.
For a beat, neither of us moves.
He laughs low beneath me. “Damn,” he rasps, hands sliding slowly up my thighs. “Vicious tonight. I like it.”
“Win-win,” I breathe, and don’t move away.
His grip tightens on my hips, thumbs digging in, leaving the promise of bruises tomorrow. “Yield?” he teases.
“Never.”
Talon pushes off the ropes. “Fight’s over, Dre. She’s got you pinned.”
Jasper signs, amused, “Looks like it.”
The room goes quiet as our breathing slows. Want coils inside of me as I look up at Talon and Jasper. It’s clear to me that I’ve lost this game. I look down and find Dredyn staring up at me like I’m his last meal.
I shift my weight on Dredyn’s hips and grind slowly on his growing cock. “Well... who’s going to fuck me first?”