Chapter 20
TWENTY
OZZY
I step out onto the back porch like I’m just going to check the weather. Like I’m not about to find out whether Salem’s life is about to get flipped upside down—again.
The night air is cool, the kind that bites your lungs a little and makes you feel awake whether you want to be or not.
The woods around Rainmaker are dark and quiet, the tree line a solid wall of shadow.
Somewhere in the distance, a creek murmurs like it doesn’t know anything about monsters.
Behind me, through the window, I can see a warm glow from the bedroom lamp.
Salem is in there.
Safe.
For now.
I pull my phone out and open the secure line. Arrow’s already in the thread—Rae too, probably—because nothing happens without them knowing. The moment I hit connect, the line clicks and a voice comes through I wasn’t expecting this late.
Dean Maddox.
My spine goes stiff.
Dean doesn’t call unless the world is on fire or about to be. “Ozzy,” he says, low and calm.
“Dean,” I answer. My voice is steady, but my body is already bracing. “What’s going on?”
A pause. Then: “How much does Salem know about her father?”
The question lands like a dropped weight. My jaw tightens. I glance back at the window without meaning to. That soft light. That small shape shifting under covers. “She hasn’t mentioned him,” I say carefully. “Not once. If she has one, she doesn’t talk about him.”
Dean exhales. “Okay. That’s what I suspected.”
My stomach twists. “What did you find?” I ask.
Dean’s voice stays even, but there’s an edge to it now. “We traced the secure booking.”
The booking. The extraction. The contract. The money trail that got Maddox Security involved at all.
My grip tightens on the phone. “And?”
“It wasn’t anonymous,” Dean says. “Not really. Someone went to a lot of trouble to keep their identity buried, but we peeled it back.” A pause, like he’s choosing the most controlled way to say it. “It’s her father, Ozzy.”
My breath leaves my lungs too fast. For a second, all I can hear is the distant creek and my own pulse.
“Her father hired Maddox Security,” Dean repeats. “He’s the one who paid to get her out.”
I stare into the darkness like it might give me a reaction that isn’t… rage.
Confusion. A sharp, painful kind of hope I don’t want to touch. I swallow hard. “Do we have a name?”
“Arthur Charles.”
I won’t pretend it doesn’t make something tighten in my chest—because names mean responsibility. Names mean the story gets bigger. I’ve never heard the name before, but still it makes me wonder about him.
“And you talked to him?” I ask immediately.
Dean’s voice turns grim. “No. That’s the problem. We’ve been trying to contact him since we confirmed the trace. No answer. No callback. Nothing.”
Cold slides under my skin. “Maybe he’s—” I start.
“Missing,” Dean says flatly, finishing it for me. “Or hiding. Or dead. We don’t know yet.”
My jaw clenches so hard it aches. Salem’s father pays to save her…
and then vanishes? That doesn’t smell like a loving parent who just remembered he has a daughter.
That smells like fear. Or guilt. Or both.
“What else?” I ask, because I already know there’s more.
Dean didn’t call just to drop a family bomb.
Dean sighs once. “We dug into Carl.”
My stomach knots. “And?” I bite out.
“We located him and Salem’s mother,” Dean says. “They’re on vacation. Tropics. Resort. Private bungalow. A place that costs more than either of them should be able to afford.”
My hands curl into a fist. Salem’s mother—who barely cares if she exists—suddenly has money for a luxury getaway. While her daughter is trafficked. I feel something dark rise in my chest, slow and poisonous. “That’s not a coincidence,” I say.
“No,” Dean agrees. “It’s not.”
I press a hand to my forehead, forcing my breathing to stay even. “I’ll have to tell her.”
“Not yet,” Dean says. “I wouldn’t tell her until we have something solid and a plan.”
I glance back through the glass again. The warm glow. The safe quiet. The girl in that bed who thinks her mother might miss her.
My throat tightens.
Dean continues, “I have eyes on them. People following. We’re looking into Carl’s connections. We’re running his financials, his travel, his contacts. We’re pulling everything.”
“Good,” I say, voice tight. “Burn him down.”
Dean’s tone turns sharper. “And one more thing.”
I straighten, adrenaline spiking again. “Yeah?”
“The ring,” he says. “It has a name.”
My skin prickles.
“Goldenbell,” Dean says.
The word feels wrong in my mouth—pretty, delicate, harmless. A name designed to hide the rot.
Dean’s voice goes colder. “I believe Serafina is connected to it.”
There it is. Serafina. The woman who circles Dean like a vulture with a grudge. The shadow behind the other shadows. The reason this world keeps colliding—vigilantes and Maddox Security and safehouses and blood.
My grip tightens on the phone again. “You’re sure?”
“No,” Dean says. “But I’m close. I’ve been tracking her for a long time. Goldenbell is the first tangible thread we’ve had that fits her patterns.”
I close my eyes for a second. Salem isn’t just collateral. She’s a piece on a board I didn’t know existed. And someone is moving pieces that shouldn’t even be in play.
Dean’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “We’re closing in, Ozzy.”
I open my eyes. “How close?”
“Close enough that things will get messy,” he says. “Goldenbell won’t go quietly.”
I suck in a breath and exhale slowly.
“Protect her,” Dean orders. Not as a suggestion. As law. “Until I tell you otherwise, Rainmaker is priority.”
“Copy,” I say instantly. “I’m keeping her safe.”
Dean pauses, like he can read my mind. Like he knows I’m quickly falling for her. “And Ozzy?”
“Yeah.”
“Be smart about your feelings.” My throat tightens like he reached in and grabbed a truth I didn’t want anyone else touching.
“I’m being smart,” I say automatically.
Dean’s voice is quiet now. “You can’t be smart and in love at the same time. Not in this work.”
I flinch at the word even though he didn’t say it cruelly. Love. As if it’s already obvious. As if it’s inevitable.
Dean exhales. “I’m not telling you to shut it off. I’m telling you to keep your head. Because if you lose it, it won’t just get you hurt. It’ll get her hurt.”
My jaw clenches. “I know.”
“Good,” Dean says. “I’ll update you when we have more.” The line clicks off.
I stand there for a beat, phone still at my ear, listening to nothing.
The night air feels colder now. I rub my face with my free hand and stare out into the dark.
Salem’s father hired Maddox Security. Salem’s mother is drinking fruity cocktails on a beach with money that doesn’t belong to her.
Carl is a suspect. Goldenbell runs the ring.
Serafina’s name is in the mix. And Salem is sleeping inside like the world isn’t sharpening its knives.
I have a strong urge to go back in there and wrap myself around her again. To keep her in that warm bubble of ignorance. But ignorance isn’t safety. It’s just a delay. And delays get people killed.
I exhale slowly and scroll through my contacts to Poe.
Poe Cameron is the one person who can say a single sentence and put my skull back where it belongs.
He answers on the second ring like he’s been awake waiting. “Oliver,” Poe says, voice dry. “You calling because you’re bored or because something’s on fire?”
“Both,” I say, and my voice sounds rougher than I want it to.
Poe hums. “That’s not an answer.”
I stare at the tree line. “Dean called.”
Poe’s tone shifts immediately. “Okay.”
“He asked about Salem’s father,” I say. “Turns out… her father hired Maddox Security. Paid for the extraction. Then vanished.”
A pause. Poe’s voice goes quiet. “That’s bad.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “Also—Salem’s mom and her boyfriend Carl are on vacation in the tropics. Luxury resort. Like they suddenly found money.”
Poe swears softly. “That’s worse.”
“It gets better,” I mutter. “The ring’s name is Goldenbell. Dean thinks Serafina’s tied to it.”
Poe exhales, slowly. “We’re in deep.”
I close my eyes briefly. “Yeah.”
Silence stretches for a moment. Then Poe says, casually, “You didn’t call me just to deliver bad news. What’s the real reason?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. I almost hang up. Then I hear Salem’s voice from earlier in my head—I’ve never trusted anyone. “I’m falling for her.” The words land heavy in the cold air.
On the other end of the line, Poe goes quiet. Then, like he’s smirking through the phone, he says, “You’re doomed.”
I bark out a short laugh that sounds more like pain. “Helpful.”
“You want helpful?” Poe asks. “Be careful.”
“I am careful,” I snap.
Poe’s voice stays calm. “No, Oz. You’re protective. That’s not the same as careful.”
I swallow. “What do you want me to do? Not feel it?”
Poe pauses. “I want you to keep your brain online. Because I’d hate to have to rescue you when things go sideways.”
My mouth tightens. “You’d love rescuing me.”
Poe scoffs. “I would hate it. You’d never shut up about it.”
I smile faintly despite myself.
Then Poe adds, quieter, “She good?”
I glance back at the window. That warm glow. That bed. That girl I shouldn’t want this much. “She’s… better,” I say. “When she laughs, it’s like—”
“Don’t,” Poe interrupts. “Don’t get poetic. I’ll hang up.”
I huff. “Whatever.”
Poe’s voice softens. “Just… don’t forget who you are, Ozzy. You can love her. But don’t let love make you reckless.”
I swallow. “Yeah.”
“And when the time comes,” Poe says, “tell her the truth. Before someone else does.”
My chest tightens. Because I already know that conversation is going to cut. “Okay,” I murmur.
Poe sighs. “Call if you need me.”
“I always need you,” I say, deadpan.
Poe snorts. “Gross.”
I hang up with a laugh.
The porch creaks under my weight as I stand there for another beat, staring into the dark.
Then I tuck my phone in my pocket and go back inside.
Because Salem is in that bed, warm and trusting and finally sleeping without flinching at every sound.
And no matter what Dean just told me— Salem is mine to protect.
And I’m going to keep her safe long enough for her to find out what she deserves.
Even if I have to burn the whole world down to do it.