Chapter 16
Ry
The rhythmic hum of the SUV's engine provides a steady backdrop to my thoughts as I sit in the back seat, my body swaying gently with each turn.
I've dressed for the occasion—a fitted black top paired with a pair of dark green booty shorts that's short enough to draw attention but not so revealing that I can't move if I need to.
My teal hair is pulled back tightly, emphasizing the sharpness of my features.
Add in my thigh high boots and I look like any other girl heading to a club for the night—sexy, maybe a little silly, definitely not someone who could kill you six different ways before you hit the ground.
The weight of concealed knives presses against my thighs, my lower back, nestled against my ribs—accessories more essential to me than the small purse sitting between Oliver and me.
I've learned that playing the harmless party girl is the perfect cover for getting close to people who would otherwise keep their distance.
They never see the danger until it's too late.
Instead of watching the city slide past the tinted windows, I turn my attention to Oliver.
He's dressed simply—dark jeans, a shirt that shows off the lean muscles of a dancer.
He must have been kitted by Hudson because I can still make out the subtle bumps and ridges that I assume are weapons.
His gaze flicks nervously between the road ahead and Hudson's eyes in the rearview mirror.
"So," I begin, breaking the silence that's settled over us since we left the penthouse, "what brought you to this cesspool of a city in the first place?"
He seems startled by the question, like he wasn't expecting conversation. "Job opportunities, mostly," he answers after a moment's hesitation. "There's not much out there beyond the city anymore—just dying towns and empty promises. Here, at least, there's a chance at something better."
"Family?" I press, curious about the background checks Hudson ran that seemed to satisfy him enough to let Oliver tag along.
A shadow crosses his face. "Estranged," he says shortly. "My dad died a couple years back." He doesn't elaborate, and something in his expression warns me not to push.
"Sorry to hear that," I offer, not entirely sure if I mean it. Everyone has their ghosts in this city.
He shrugs, the movement fluid and graceful even in the confined space.
"It is what it is." His eyes meet mine, and I see a flash of that confidence I noticed when we first met—before Rev and Kai terrified him for letting me steal his bike.
"Things started looking up when I landed the gig at the Playground.
Felt like my luck was finally changing."
"Do you still feel lucky?" I ask, genuinely curious given everything that's happened since.
A smile spreads across his face—open, genuine. "Yes. More than ever."
Something about his certainty makes me pause. Most people would be running in the opposite direction by now, especially after witnessing the chaos in my life. But Oliver seems to be leaning into the danger, drawn to it—or maybe drawn to us.
"Even after everything that's happened?" I press, studying his reaction closely. "The sabotage at the club, the overdoses?"
"Especially after all that," he replies without hesitation. "I've spent my whole life being invisible, just another nobody trying to survive. But now..." He glances toward Hudson, then back to me. "Now I'm part of something important. Something real."
There's an intensity in his eyes that I recognize—the desperate need to belong, to matter. I've seen it before in the twins when we were at the foster home together, that hunger for connection that goes beyond the ordinary.
"We'll see if you still feel that way after tonight," I say, keeping my tone light despite the weight of what might be waiting for us at the docks.
The SUV takes a sharp turn, and Oliver slides slightly closer to me on the seat. I notice Hudson's eyes flick to the rearview mirror, watching the movement with that predatory focus he never quite manages to hide.
"Can I ask you something?" Oliver says, his voice dropping lower as if sharing a secret.
I raise an eyebrow. "You can ask. Doesn't mean I'll answer."
He hesitates, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "How did they do it? The twins. How did they take control of everything? Make people fear them?"
The question surprises me. It's not what I expected from him—not a question about our relationship, or any of the rumors that swirl around us. Instead, he's asking about power. About control.
"What makes you think they want people to fear them?" I counter, curious about his perception.
He looks at me like I've said something absurd. "I've seen how people react when they realize who they are. Fear is... useful. Powerful."
There's something in his tone—a hunger, an admiration—that makes me reassess him. Maybe there's more to our pretty dancer than I initially thought.
"Fear is a tool," I agree carefully. "But it's not the only one. Respect is more valuable in the long run."
"And how do they earn that?" he asks, leaning closer, hanging on my every word.
I study him for a moment, weighing how much to reveal. "Consistency," I finally say. "People need to know exactly what happens when they cross certain lines. No exceptions, no surprises. Break the rules, there are consequences. Keep your word, deliver what you promise, and you'll have protection."
Oliver nods slowly, absorbing this like it's gospel. His eyes drift to my neck, lingering on the marks there. His fingers twitch like he wants to reach out.
"How did you come to belong to them? The twins, I mean. How did they earn you?" he asks, voice dropping to just above a whisper.
I say nothing, my face going carefully blank as I feel Hudson's eyes on me. I let the silence stretch between us until Oliver shifts uncomfortably.
"And the violence?" Oliver pivots when I don't respond. "The... enforcement?
Hudson's eyes meet mine in the mirror, a silent warning that I ignore.
"Sometimes necessary," I admit. "But never random, never without purpose. Violence for its own sake is wasteful. It should always serve a greater goal."
"Like tonight?" he asks, gesturing vaguely toward the road ahead, toward the docks waiting for us.
"Exactly like tonight," I confirm, a cold smile spreading across my face. "If we find who's been targeting us, they'll learn exactly why crossing us was their last mistake."
Rather than being disturbed by this, Oliver looks... excited. His pupils dilate slightly, his breathing quickens. It's subtle, but I notice these things—I've spent years reading people's reactions, looking for signs of deception or fear.
"I want to learn," he says suddenly, earnestly, as he shifts closer again. "Everything they are willing to teach me. I can be useful to them—and you—not just as a dancer."
I tilt my head, considering him. "And what exactly are you offering, Oliver?"
His gaze doesn't waver. "Whatever any of you need. Eyes and ears in places you can't always be. Someone who doesn't look like a threat until it's too late." He gestures to himself with a self-deprecating smile. "People underestimate me. Always have. Could be an advantage."
He's not wrong. With his pretty face and dancer's grace, most would see him as harmless. A perfect spy in plain sight.
"We'll see," I say noncommittally, though I'm intrigued by the possibility. "Let's get through tonight first, shall we?"
He nods eagerly, settling back in his seat but still watching me with that same intensity. I can feel Hudson's disapproval radiating from the front seat, but I ignore it. I make my own decisions about who to trust, who to use.
The SUV slows as we approach the outskirts of the dock area. Through the windshield, I can see Rev and Kai ahead of us on their bikes, sleek and dangerous in the fading light. Behind us, Camden follows with another SUV full of Hudson's men—insurance in case things go sideways.
"Almost there," Hudson announces unnecessarily, his voice tight with the tension we all feel.
I check my weapons one last time—the knife at my thigh, the one nestled against my spine, the garrote wire disguised as a stylish bracelet.
I've played this role before—the lost party girl who took a wrong turn, stumbling into places she shouldn't be.
Men always underestimate a pretty face, always want to help the damsel in distress. It's their last mistake.
"Remember," Hudson says, his eyes finding mine in the mirror, "the goal is to observe. We need to know who we're dealing with before we make a move."
"I know how to do my job," I reply, a hint of sharpness in my tone that makes Oliver glance between us curiously.
Hudson's jaw tightens, but he says nothing more as we turn onto the access road that leads to the docks. The sun has nearly set, casting long shadows between the towering stacks of shipping containers. Perfect hiding places for whatever—or whoever—might be waiting.
"Ready?" I ask Oliver, watching his face carefully for any signs of doubt or fear.
He nods once, determined. "Ready."
The SUV rolls to a stop, and I take a deep breath, sliding into the character I'll need to play—just another silly girl who's about to be in way over her head. Unless, of course, they're the ones who are already drowning.
The docks spread before us like a metal labyrinth, shipping containers stacked three high creating corridors of steel and shadow.
Hudson kills the engine, and for a moment, we sit in silence, listening to the distant sound of waves lapping against the pier and the occasional metallic groan of settling containers.
Rev and Kai have already dismounted from their bikes, moving with predatory grace as they secure the perimeter. Through the windshield, I watch them signal to each other—all clear so far.
"If they make a move the activity would be centered around the northeast section," Hudson reminds us, his voice low. "That's where our containers are."
I nod, my mind already mapping out approach routes and escape paths. "Oliver stays with you," I decide. "I'll go in alone."
Hudson's head whips around, his eyes narrowing. "Like hell you will."
"This isn't up for debate," I say, my voice hardening. "I can get closer playing the lost party girl if I'm alone. A group draws attention."
"Then I'll go with you," Oliver offers quickly. "We could pretend to be a couple who got lost looking for a rave or something."
I consider his suggestion. It's not terrible—two people might actually sell the story better than one. And if things go south, having someone to watch my back could be useful.
"Fine," I concede, ignoring Hudson's deepening scowl. "Oliver and I will approach from the east. You, Rev, and Kai coordinate with Camden to cover the other access points. If we spot anything, we signal and wait for backup. No heroics."
The last part is directed at Oliver, who nods solemnly. I know the twins will ignore that directive if they think I'm in danger, but it's worth saying anyway.
"I don't like this," Hudson mutters, but he doesn't object further.
"You don't have to like it," I remind him, the words leaving my mouth with a sharpness I know I'll regret later when we're alone. "You just have to do your job."
His eyes meet mine in the mirror one last time, something unspoken passing between us—a warning, a promise, the certainty that we'll revisit this conversation when the night is over.
Then he's opening his door, the cool night air rushing in to replace the SUV's climate-controlled atmosphere as he disappears into the darkness.