Chapter Twelve
Smoke curled through the humid air, the scent of gunpowder and salt still thick in Kael’s lungs.
Marcus’s body lay at his feet, eyes open, a faint curl of that same smug grin frozen on his face.
Kael wanted to feel satisfaction—but all he felt was exhaustion and the dull, ragged ache of his shoulder.
He turned, catching sight of Drew through the haze. Blood streaked down Drew’s side, dark against his clothing, but he was alive. The only thought that cut through the chaos was the instinct to pull him close—to kiss him, to remind himself they’d both survived—but there was too much to do.
A voice carried over the crackle of the dying flames. “Got one alive!”
Kael looked up. Tane stood a few meters away, his weapon steady as he held it on a kneeling man. He recognized him as the man who had spoken to them in Hawaiian. The younger operative’s ankles were crossed, his hands laced over his head, his face blank but unafraid.
“Unarmed,” Tane said. “He didn’t even reach for the rifle.”
Kael walked over slowly, boots crunching on gravel. His weapon stayed trained on the captured man’s head. The man didn’t flinch, didn’t blink, just watched Kael with a strange calm.
“Name,” Kael ordered.
“Victor.” His voice was quiet, almost conversational and his gaze shot to Drew. “He already knew that.”
Kael shot a glance at Drew to see him nod.
Kael’s jaw flexed. “So, you’re a member of this Directorate bullshit.”
Victor’s shoulders seemed to slump. “I was.”
Interesting answer. Kael frowned. “Why are you still breathing?”
Victor’s gaze didn’t waver. “Because I didn’t fire.”
Tane’s stance shifted, uneasy. “Surge, he had the drop on me earlier, but he didn’t take it.”
Kael’s eyes narrowed. He crouched, bringing himself level with the kneeling man. “Why not?”
Victor shrugged slightly. “Maybe I’m tired of killing people who don’t deserve it.”
“Then why the hell were you here?” Kael pressed, voice low and hard. “In my home, shooting at my family.”
“Because I believed the lies I was told, I thought I was fighting for something good.” Victor’s tone was bitter, flat. “Turns out I was wrong. The Directorate... they sell nothing but falsehoods and deal in monsters.”
Kael studied him for a moment. There was no panic in Victor’s face, no desperation to survive. Just emptiness. That unsettled him more than rage would have.
Something about the man came to him in that instant. “You don’t care if you live or die, do you?”
Victor met his gaze, calm and certain. “Not much difference either way.”
Tane’s voice came again, quieter now. “He’s not lying.” There was tension in his tone, like the realization bothered him more than he wanted to admit.
Drew stepped up beside Kael, his expression unreadable. “You believed Marcus. I did too once. You think you’re doing good until you see the bodies pile up before you, and the stories no longer ring true.”
Victor’s eyes flicked toward Drew. “Yeah. I read about you. The defector who vanished. They said you went rogue.”
Drew gave a grim smile. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Kael looked between them. “So, what now, Victor? You always switch sides when the blood gets inconvenient?”
Victor hesitated. “I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
Tane exhaled, stepping closer. “Maybe some one-on-one time with me will help him figure it out.” His grin was quick and sharp. “I’ve got a talent for... persuasion.”
Kael raised an eyebrow. “You volunteering to babysit?”
“Call it curiosity.” Tane’s eyes never left Victor. “Besides, if he’s lying, I’ll know.”
Kael considered it for a long beat, then nodded. “Fine. Take him. No bruises unless they’re necessary.”
Tane’s grin widened. “Copy that, boss.” He grabbed Victor by the collar and hauled him to his feet. “Come on, sunshine. We’re gonna have a nice long chat about your life choices.”
Victor winced but didn’t resist. “You always this charming?”
“Wait till I really want something from you, then you’ll see the charm.” Tane nudged him forward, and the two disappeared into the smoke, their voices fading into the distance. It was the first hint of levity the night had offered.
Kael turned toward the courtyard, where Aunty Leilani stood brushing soot from her dress. Her gray hair was wild around her face, but her spine was straight, her chin lifted. When she saw him, she crossed her arms and gave him a look that could’ve peeled paint.
“Kael,” she said, voice sharp as the crack of a whip. “You call that a plan? Letting the bad men bring fire to our home?”
Kael winced. “Wasn’t exactly scheduled, Aunty.”
“Hmph.” She looked him over, eyes narrowing on the blood seeping through his shoulder. “You’re leaking. You get yourself patched before you start acting tough.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He couldn’t help the faint smile tugging at his mouth.
Behind him, Manō and Breaker appeared, helping a limping Reef across the courtyard. Reef’s face was pale, left calf bandaged with what looked like a torn shirt.
“Still alive,” Reef muttered. “But I think I left half my dignity on the north wall.”
Breaker chuckled. “Wasn’t much there to start with, kid.”
Aunty clucked her tongue. “Boys, enough. Inside, all of you. I’m making food. You’re too thin to fight, all bones and foolishness.” She turned to Drew, her tone softening slightly. “You too, nephew. You’re skin and bone. I’ll feed you until you can’t move.”
Drew blinked, then smiled despite himself. “Yes, ma’am.”
Kael bit back a laugh. “Welcome to the family.”
Aunty pointed toward the main building. “Inside. All of you. And don’t bleed on my floors.”
They obeyed, the adrenaline fading as exhaustion crept in.
Inside the command center, the air was cooler.
Kael sank into a chair, pain from his shoulder pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
He pulled out his phone and started making calls—old favors owed, cleanup crews who specialized in erasing the kind of chaos they’d just survived, and the authorities, because that was the kind of law abiding citizen he was.
An hour later, they were all patched up. Across the room, Luka and Niko were already sketching out improvements to their perimeter defenses. “We need motion sensors on the south ridge,” Keanu chipped in. “And thermal cameras along the beachline.”
Luka nodded. “And reinforced gates. Next time someone tries to ram them, I want solid steel barricades that rise straight through the drive, and we need to concrete it all. Damn gravel is too loud to move on.”
Drew leaned against the wall, watching them. “I want to make a change too.”
Kael looked up. “What kind of change?”
Drew’s eyes softened, the faintest trace of humor in them. “A house. Right here on the property. For us. Somewhere permanent.”
Luka grinned. “Finally! We are all sick of the van shaking.”
“Pretty sure the suspension’s crying,” Keanu added, deadpan.
Niko snorted. “It’s not the van crying, it’s me trying to sleep through it.”
Laughter rippled through the room, cutting through the heaviness that had settled in. Even Kael found himself chuckling.
He reached out, fingers brushing Drew’s hand. “Guess I’ll have to build us something with stronger foundations.”
Drew’s smile warmed, quiet but full of promise. “Stronger’s good.”
Kael leaned in, voice low, teasing. “I was talking about the walls. What were you thinking?”
Niko groaned. “I’m injured, man, don’t make me throw up.”
Aunty’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Food’s ready! And if you don’t come now, I’ll feed the pigs instead!”
Kael stood, tugging Drew’s hand. “You heard her.”
“Coming,” Drew said, laughter in his voice.
Kael’s chest eased for the first time that night. They’d survived. They’d bleed, rebuild, and laugh their way through the aftermath. That was what family did.
As they headed toward the kitchen, Kael squeezed Drew’s hand and murmured, “Next time someone brings war to our home, I want you behind me.”
Drew’s answering grin was wicked. “Not likely.”
Kael sighed. “Didn’t think so.” He smiled anyway.
The night outside still smoldered, but inside, surrounded by laughter and the smell of Aunty’s cooking, Kael finally let himself breathe.
****
Inside a small carefully built room, in the corner of a large fully equipped commercial garage, under a single flickering light, the shadows stretched long across the concrete floor.
It was quiet here—too quiet for comfort.
The hum of the bulb, the creak of pipes, the steady rhythm of Victor’s breathing—each sound pressed in on the stillness.
The space was utilitarian, stripped of warmth.
Tools lined one wall in disciplined order, every wrench and hammer a reflection of Tane’s precision.
A cot sat folded in the corner beside a metal table littered with schematics and half-drained coffee cups.
Against the far wall, a heavy chair bolted to a steel plate waited beneath the light.
Victor occupied it now, the steel cold against his spine.
His wrists were bound to the armrests, his ankles lashed to the chair’s front legs, and a chain crossed his chest like a cruel seatbelt.
He could feel the pressure of the restraints with every breath, the faint sting where the leather dug into his skin.
Tane stood a few paces away, half in shadow, arms folded over his chest. His presence filled the room more than the light. There was something steady about him—controlled, dangerous, and, at this moment, focused entirely on Victor.
“You comfortable?” he asked.
Victor gave a small grin, the kind that came easy when you’d run out of fear. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Sure. Or I can keep talking, I like hearing myself talk,” Tane replied. His tone was calm, unbothered, the faintest edge of humor threading through it. “But it might get a little monotonous for you.”
Victor smirked. “Then you and Marcus would’ve gotten along nicely.”