Chapter Twenty-Five
The room smelled of old leather and the faint smoke of the fireplace Dave’s staff hadn’t bothered to light. Heavy curtains filtered the mid-afternoon sun into muted bands across the floor.
It was quieter here than the war room—deliberately so.
Viper sat opposite him, posture sharp as a blade, eyes locked on the maps spread across Dave’s desk. Stone stood off his shoulder, arms crossed, silent weight at his back. Ace leaned near the door, steady as the hinge itself, listening to every word.
Dave let the silence stretch before he spoke. “We take Franklin next. Titus got us a meeting, and Vegas is confirmed.” Dave tapped a finger against the map. “We take Franklin alive. He’s leverage to pull Tatum into the light.”
Viper gave a curt nod. “Genesis will move fast. Rip, Law, Winter, Black—they’re ready. We’ll pick up Real, Crow, and the rest of the team when we get to the ranch.”
“What about bringing in the rest of YA?” Stone suggested. “We have Sage and Boston here, but what about Azrael and his team? Vegas will be crawling, and from what we saw at the warehouse in Port Hueneme, we could use the extra help.”
Dave tipped his head slightly and then nodded. “I’ll make the call to Azrael while we’re in the air.”
His gaze shifted to Ace. “I need you and your team to run point here at the estate,” he continued. “FBI will be on the ground soon. Clinton’s body leaves this house clean. You’ll hold this place down. Protect Sparrow and the intel. Protect my staff.”
Ace’s eyes flicked once to Stone, then back to Dave. He nodded, short and sure. “Copy.”
The decision settled, Dave leaned back in his chair. “We’ll be flying out within the hour.”
“Are we seriously going to be taking Titus with us?” Winter asked.
“Fuck that,” Viper spat. “He’s not getting anywhere near this operation.”
Titus’s voice cut from the doorway, low and steady. “You’ll need more than maps and muscle.”
Dave looked up. Titus stood braced in the frame, arms loose at his sides, broad shoulders filling the space like he’d been listening the whole damn time. His eyes locked on Dave.
“I thought we were in this together.”
“Convince me,” Dave said, folding his arms.
“Franklin knows me. On paper, he still answers to me. You want him alive? You’ll take me.”
“He won’t be expecting you,” Dave pointed out. “This meeting was between him and a seller.”
Titus shrugged. “It’s not a stretch for me to be there since he fucked up your first meeting.”
“No fucking way,” Viper snarled.
Titus stepped farther in, his boots quiet on the carpet. Ignoring Viper. His words were directed at Dave. “Take me and my men with you, like you agreed. Keep your word.”
The room shifted. Viper’s jaw tightened; Stone’s head turned slow, the kind of look that meant trouble. Ace straightened by the door but didn’t speak.
Dave’s hands pressed against the desk, steady, cold. “And if I tell you no?”
Titus’s mouth curved, not quite a smile. “Then I’ll meet Franklin in Vegas myself. Or pull him from Vegas. Either I’m on that bird with you… Or you won’t find him.”
“Yeah…” Viper snorted, half-amused and half-infuriated. “How are you going to do that in chains?”
The words hung heavy. A bit of a threat. But also a fact. Titus would be in chains when they left here.
“I can help you,” Titus told Dave, ignoring Viper.
Viper’s shoulders tensed, his voice a low growl as he continued. “You think walking into Vegas with us makes you one of us?”
Titus turned his head and met Viper’s stare without flinching. “I think keeping me out makes you blind. Franklin still thinks he’s my man. If I’m there, it’s more legit. That’s the door you need opened.”
“Bullshit,” Viper hissed.
Titus drew his gaze from Viper and settled on Dave. “Better to have me where you can see me, Commander. You know it.”
“He does have a point,” Stone murmured to Dave.
The silence was a knife.
Dave exhaled through his nose, the decision sharp in his gut. He didn’t fully trust Titus. Couldn’t.
But he trusted the truth in Stone’s words. Plus, Franklin believed he was still answering to Titus. That was leverage no one else in the room had. And having Titus pull Franklin from Vegas was not an option.
They had to get the guy in his place of business to take down the Vegas operation. That wouldn’t give them Tatum, but with Franklin and his devices in Genesis’s custody, Tatum would soon follow.
Dave’s voice was flat, final. “Then you’re on the bird with Walt. No other men. They stay here under Ace’s watch. Don’t make me regret my decision.”
Titus inclined his head once, as if they’d just struck a bargain.
The Chinook hit the ground in a roar of blades and dust, the Nevada desert kicking up around them.
Dave was first down the ramp, Stone close at his shoulder, the rest of Genesis fanning behind—Viper, Rip, Law, Winter, and Black. Sage and Boston slipped out last, both lean silhouettes against the grit and noise, young eyes sharp as any of the veterans’s.
The rotors hammered above them, the engine winding down in a long, shuddering whine until the bird settled into stillness.
Nightfall Drifters Ranch stretched wide in the distance, the outline of outbuildings black against the pale desert sky.
Figures waited.
Real stood front and center, broad and immovable as ever—arms folded, eyes narrowed against the sand. Real held Genesis close at the ranch, steady as the mountain, while Viper was out in the field—and vice versa.
Crow flanked Real, and beside them was Azrael with his YA team—Rebel, Freedom, Beck, and a few new assassins flanking close, every one of them young, lean, coiled, and watchful.
Micah lingered a step back with them, wiry frame taut, eyes sharp. The young man had been brought along at the insistence of Boston and Sage. Dave didn’t argue at the time.
Dave’s gaze now landed on Micah—ready to tackle the problem. “You’re not officially part of this mission.”
Micah’s mouth curved tight, not quite a smile. He turned to Azrael. “We talked last week about me joining YA. Is that offer still on the table?”
Azrael didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Micah’s jaw set, shoulders squaring at the word, and he turned back to Dave.
Dave read the shift in him plain as day. Whatever had held the young man back was gone.
The wind pulled at Dave’s shirt as he crossed the stretch of dirt. Real stepped forward, hand extended, grip like iron when Dave clasped it. No words needed; the weight of old battles carried in the silence between them.
Crow gave a slow nod, gaze flicking past Dave to Stone and back again.
“I heard Port Hueneme was a setup,” Crow said.
Azrael’s look was sharper, assessing, the kind that measured not just strength but intent.
“Vegas will be much different,” Stone growled.
Dave’s mouth pulled tight in something close to agreement.
He glanced once at Sage and Boston, their shoulders squared, standing tall beside men almost twice their age.
They weren’t green anymore—they were here to prove it.
Way too fucking young, but having them with them was better than on the streets.
“Then we fly out tomorrow,” Dave said. “The meeting with Franklin is set for two nights from now.”
The following night.
Vegas burned neon across the skyline, the glow bleeding against the low clouds. From their vantage point in a darkened parking garage, the city was all noise and pulse, a different kind of battlefield.
The others had fanned out—Viper checking comms with Rip and Law, Winter and Black sweeping the perimeter, Sage and Boston shadowing Azrael’s YA crew. Even Titus kept his distance, Titus and Walt a quiet presence near the far wall.
For a moment, it was just the two of them.
Stone leaned against the concrete pillar, eyes on the chaos below, jaw tight enough to crack. His voice came low, meant only for Dave.
“I hate that you’re suddenly in the field all the time.”
Dave let out a long breath, shoulders heavy. He hadn’t carried this kind of weight in years—not like this, boots on the ground instead of behind the desk.
“I know.” His gaze stayed on the streets. “If I didn’t need to be there as the seller, I’d be back at the estate. You have to know that.”
Stone’s throat worked in a hard swallow. He turned, eyes catching Dave’s in the dim light.
“I do know,” he said, voice rough. “But I don’t have to like it.”
Dave’s chest tightened at the honesty, sharper than any blade. For a heartbeat, he wanted to reach for him, wanted the world to fall away the way it did in this man’s arms.
But the mission pressed in, and all he could do was hold Stone’s stare, steady and silent.
“Tomorrow, stay close to me,” Stone said harshly.
“I will. I promise.”
The air between them cooled, but the promised words lingered—strong, unbreakable, as they waited for whatever came next.