Chapter 29
Sayla
I could feel my pulse in my throat, heavy and fast, as I stood in front of the mayor and Russo, trying to keep my hands from shaking. Kapono was out there, and the small flash of hope that had grounded me for a second felt fragile and thin as I stood under the flickering overhead light, facing two men who spoke with the kind of ease that only came from having too much power for too long.
The mayor looked at me like I was an annoyance. “I spoke to your man,” he said casually like we were chatting at a damn dinner party. “Roque’s a bold guy. Maybe a little too confident for the position he’s in.”
I didn’t respond, but the tremor in my jaw betrayed the tension building inside me.
“That’s where you come in,” he continued. “It’s up to you to convince him to be a little less cocky because now he’s depending onusto keep you and the kids safe.”
I stiffened and met his gaze. “Why do this? What’s the point?”
He smiled like it was funny, and my question was naive. “Because everyone has a price,” he said simply. “Everyone wants power, money, and influence. It’s just a matter of what they’re willing to trade for it.”
I stared at him, disgust rising in my chest. “And you think it’s worth it?”
That made him laugh, low and mocking. He turned to Russo, shaking his head like I’d confirmed something he already believed. “You were right, she really doesn’t know anything.”
Russo didn’t say a word, he just watched me with those calm, dead eyes.
The mayor turned back to me, his smile fading into something colder. “Think about what I said,” he murmured. “Everyone can be bought, which means there are always people out there doing the buying.”
His gaze shifted to the kids in the corner—Kairo holding Kaida protectively, both of them trying to stay small and unnoticed—and then, slowly, he let his eyes drop, dragging them over me in a way that made my skin crawl.
“Even bodies,” he added.
I didn’t flinch, Iwouldn’tgive him that, but inside, I was burning. Because now it wasn’t just about surviving, it was about making sure these bastardspaid.
My heart was hammering, but I didn’t let it show. I kept my eyes on the mayor, even as every protective instinct flared like wildfire at how he looked at the kids. I took a small step forward to put myself squarely between them and those two monsters.
“You don’t need to involve the kids,” I said, my voice low but firm. “I’ll do whatever you want. Just leave them out of it.”
Russo’s eyes slid to me with something like amusement. “I don’t doubt that,” he replied smoothly, folding his hands in front of him like he was giving a lecture, not holding people’s lives in his hands. “But let’s be clear—you, on your own, aren’t of much use to us. Not without Roque, the sheriff, or the rest of his little band of moral crusaders.”
He tilted his head slightly, almost curious. “So, if Roque doesn’t cooperate and doesn’t do exactly what we tell him, then keeping you and those kids around becomes a liability.” His voice dropped, colder now. “Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
The threat was clear.
I swallowed hard and nodded once. “I understand.”
“Good,” the mayor cut in, too quickly, like he’d been waiting for me to say it. “Then we’re all on the same page.”
He smiled again, and it made my skin crawl. “When we bring a phone down to you in a little while, you’ll tell Roque exactly what we say. You’re going to tell him to do what we ask, to fall in line, and to stop playing hero.”
He took a step forward, not enough to close the distance, but just enough to press the words in deeper. “Because your safety—and theirs—depends on it.”
I didn’t need to respond. They thought they’d cornered me, that fear would make me obedient, but they didn’t understand who they were dealing with or provoking.
My thoughts had shifted entirely, rooted in the one person I knew would never stop, falter, or walk away from this fight. Roque. He was out there somewhere, probably already tearing through every lead, burning through every lie, and closing in with that relentless drive that made him the man he was. They’d made the mistake of touching what mattered to him. And while they stood there gloating, thinking they were in control, all I could think about was the storm building beyond these walls—one with Roque at the center of it. And when it hit, nothing they’d built would survive.
Judd
I was damn glad Roque was level-headed. With Sayla and the kids in the hands of monsters, anyone else might’ve lost it and charged in without a second thought. Hell,Iwanted to ignore Kapono’s message and go full throttle into that building. But Roque hadn’t moved an inch, even though I could see it in him—the fury simmering beneath the surface and the restraint pulling at every muscle. His knuckles were white around the wheel, and his jaw locked so tight it looked like it might snap.
But he listened.
Because he knew Kapono wasn’t being cautious—he was being clever. Charging in would corner whoever was inside, and people like that didn’t respond well to pressure. You push them too hard, back them into a corner, and they’ll use whatever leverage they have left. And right now, that leverage was Sayla and those kids. But if Kapono could remove them from the equation without setting off alarm bells, those bastards would be left holding nothing. Game over.
I glanced at Roque again. He was the kind of quiet that only came from a man holding himself together with sheer will.
I thought about Cyn, Ned’s daughter, and her boy, Wick. We weren’t together, and she probably hated me more often than not, but if someone laid a hand on either of them, I’d burn the goddamn state to the ground to get them back.
So yeah, I understood the silence, the stillness, and what it was costing Roque to sit there and wait.
My mind drifted, just for a moment, to the building I’d looked at last week, a dusty old corner spot that I’d been thinking of turning into a bar—a real one. No bullshit, just good drinks, good people, and a jukebox that played music that meant something. I hadn’t said anything yet because part of me was still clinging to the job and the badge, even with all the filth we were uncovering.
But after tonight, this case, the dirt in our department, and the things we werejust nowdragging into the light. Yeah, this was it for me. I was done.
I was going to walk away from the force and into something honest that belonged to me.
Roque still hadn’t said a word. He just stared straight ahead like he could will the walls around Sayla and those kids to collapse with focus alone. I figured it was time to break the silence and maybe remind him there was life after this.
“So,” I began, glancing sideways at him and trying to cut through the silence that had stretched tight between us, “were you serious about buying into the bar if I go for it?”
Roque didn’t move. His hands stayed locked on the wheel, knuckles pale under strain, but his voice came low and steady like it always did when he meant something. “I’ve already quit the department,” he ground out. “I just haven’t turned in the paperwork yet.”
That caught me off guard for a second—not that he was walking away, but that he’d made the choice conclusively and hadn’t said a word. Still, it wasn’t a shock. The job had been grinding him down for a while now, the same as it had been doing to the rest of us. And after everything with Sayla and the kids, it made sense that he’d had enough. We all had.
“You thinking about opening it for real?” I asked, pressing just a little, needing to hear it out loud. Not just because I wanted to know if I’d have a partner but because we both needed something solid to aim for on the other side of all this. A future we could build ourselves.
Roque finally turned his head just enough to meet my eyes. He looked exhausted—bone-deep tired—but a steadiness was behind that weariness, something anchored and certain. “If it gets me out of the force and helps me provide for my family, I’d give you my left arm to make it happen.”
I stared at him for a second, then nodded once, firm and final. We both turned back to the windshield, silence stretching again—but this time, it felt different—not as heavy and uncertain.
Roque exhaled slowly like the weight of everything he hadn’t said was pressing down on his ribs. His hands flexed on the wheel, then stilled again. “Before we walk away,” he said quietly, voice low and hard, “we’re going to clean out that goddamn department. Every last one of them. Every crooked cop that turned a blind eye or sold someone out—every bastard who let this happen. They’re going down, all of them.”
His voice had no heat—just certainty like it was already done. And in a way, I think it was.
I nodded. “Damn right, they are. That’s happening, no question.”
His jaw tightened, and his gaze drifted forward again, dark and distant. “And if there’s even a scratch on Sayla or those kids…” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to.
I believed him. Hell, Iwantedto believe him because the idea of anyone laying hands on them was enough to make my blood run hot.
“You won’t have to go alone. If they touched them, I’ll help you burn every one of those sons of bitches to the ground.”
He didn’t thank me, he just gave a single, sharp nod. Because some things didn’t need to be said out loud, some things were already understood.
The silence in the SUV stretched again, heavy but steady, the kind that settled between two men carrying the same weight. I leaned back slightly and pulled out my phone, thumbing quickly through my contacts until I found her name.
Cyn.
I didn’t think too hard about what I was doing—I just typed out a quick message.
How are you?
The reply came faster than I expected.
Fine, now bugger off.
I had to bite back a laugh, turning my head to hide the grin threatening to break through. Roque wouldn’t appreciate me cracking up while his world hung by a thread. But damn, I loved her fire. Cyn never sugarcoated a thing—she came in hot, stayed hot, and didn’t care who got burned. That fire had pissed me off more than once, but right then, it felt like a tether to something normal. Like something was still right in a world turned upside down.
I typed another message.
How’s Wick?
That one took a few seconds longer, but when it came through, I could almost hear the smile in her voice.
Giving me hell and owning the world.
I was still reading it when a follow-up buzzed in.
Now bugger off.
I smirked and leaned back against the headrest. There was a strange comfort in her sharp edges. In knowing there were still people like her out there—fierce, fearless, and just as unwilling to bend as the rest of us.
Beneath all her snark and bite, under the sharp tongue and those expertly built walls, I knew Cyn still gave a damn—probably more than she ever wanted me to realize. She wore her armor well and made sure most people saw her fire before they saw her heart, but I’d caught glimpses of it in the way she talked about Wick and didn’t hesitate to throw herself into something if it meant protecting someone she cared about.
And somehow, that brief exchange—her sarcastic deflections, the sharp one-liners, followed by that tiny crack in the armor when she talked about her son—was enough to ground me right then. In the middle of all this chaos, with the weight of everything Roque was carrying, the corruption we were about to torch, and the danger still hanging over Sayla and the kids, it was something solid to hold onto. A reminder that there was still life waiting outside of this bullshit.
And when it was over—when we’d cleaned house and brought them home—there were fences I needed to mend, some I needed to build, and words I probably should have said a long time ago. And maybe, just maybe, there was something there worth reaching for. Something worth trying for.
I stared at the last message from Cyn for a beat longer than I probably should’ve, her words still hanging in the air like a challenge and a warning all rolled into one. I thumbed out a reply anyway.
We need to talk.
The response came back quickly. \
I don’t think so. What about?
I barked out a quiet laugh, careful not to let it roll too loud in the stillness of the SUV. That was Cyn in a nutshell: say no first and ask questions later. She shut the door just a little before she cracked it open again. Still, the fact that she’d asked told me everything I needed to know—she wasn’t indifferent, she was scared.
I didn’t push her, but I sent a simple answer. You know.
She didn’t text back after that, and that silence told me more than any clever retort ever could.
I slipped the phone into my jacket pocket and leaned forward, glancing over at Roque. He hadn’t moved much, staring out the windshield like he could see through the trees and right into the building where the people he loved were being held. But his grip had loosened slightly on the wheel, and his breathing was steady.
“How’d you do it?” I asked him quietly. “How’d you get Sayla to trust you and take a chance?”
He blinked slowly, then gave a half-smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I used a snowstorm,” he began. “A bath through the ceiling, and two kids who needed someone to love them.”
I pictured Cyn’s house—neat, single-story, definitely not in danger of dropping plumbing fixtures into the living room anytime soon, and huffed out a laugh. “Right, so not exactly replicable.”
Roque let the corner of his mouth tick up. “Nope.”
“So, what about the trust part?” I pressed. “How’d youearnthat?”
He was quiet for a beat, thinking it through. “I screwed up at first,” he admitted. “But what I did right was I slowed down, I listened and watched her body language. I gave her space when she needed it, and I stayed close when she didn’t. The rest was luck and a little disaster.”
I shook my head and chuckled, settling deeper into the seat. “So, what you’re saying is, I need a natural disaster and a household semi-demolition?”
Roque’s laugh was quiet but real this time. “You alreadyhavea natural disaster if you’re talking about Cyn Dahl.”
I grinned despite myself. “That obvious, huh?”
He nodded once, his eyes softening just a little. “But those are the best ones. Sayla came in like a storm, too. She turned my whole damn life inside out, and now I’m just grateful for the mess she made.“
The weight in his voice hit me square in the chest.
I looked at him, steady and certain. “We’ll get her and the kids back, I promise you.”
Roque didn’t speak, he just nodded once. But that was enough because it wasn’t just a nod—it was a promise, too. One we’d both die keeping.