Chapter 26 Ozzy
TWENTY-SIX
OZZY
Hospitals have a smell that never leaves you once it gets in your lungs.
Bleach, antiseptic, rubber gloves, and something faintly metallic that makes your stomach think of blood even when you cannot see any.
The fluorescent lights are too bright and too flat, like they’re trying to erase every shadow a person could hide in.
The floors shine from constant cleaning, but the place still feels dirty because fear has walked these halls a million times.
I hate it here. Not because of needles or doctors or paperwork. Because hospitals are where you wait. Waiting is torture when the person you care about is behind a curtain, and you do not know what they will look like when the curtain opens.
Salem sits on a narrow bed in a small exam room, wrapped in a hospital blanket that does nothing to warm her skin.
Her hands are trembling slightly, and she keeps flexing her fingers like she’s making sure they still belong to her.
The ropes left red marks around her wrists.
Her cheek has a faint handprint bruise that is already darkening.
She looks furious and exhausted at the same time, and the combination makes her eyes bright and dangerous.
I want to go back to the warehouse and break every single man who touched her.
I also want to pick her up and take her somewhere quiet and safe and warm, where no one can reach her again.
Neither option is available.
Across the hall, through a half-open door, I see Salem’s father on a gurney surrounded by staff.
His shirt is cut open, wires stuck to his chest, blood pressure cuff cycling around his arm.
A nurse presses gauze to a wound at his temple while another checks his pupils.
His one eye that was swollen shut is worse now.
His breathing sounds wet when he exhales.
He’s alive. Barely. And the words he dropped like a grenade are still ringing in my head.
A mole. Someone close. Closer than we think. That kind of sentence changes the way you look at people. It changes the way you hear footsteps behind you. It changes everything.
The hallway outside the exam room swells with noise. Footsteps. Voices. A crying child somewhere. A cart rattling by with metal instruments clinking like a warning.
Then my people arrive. My family.
They come in fast, like they’re used to moving together and filling space.
Arrow first, eyes sharp, shoulders tense.
Juno beside him, her gaze immediately hunting for Salem.
Gage and River behind them, River’s face pale with worry and anger, Gage’s jaw set so tight it looks painful.
Knight and Lark bring up the rear, Lark clutching a bottle of water like she grabbed it on instinct, Knight scanning the corridor like he expects a shooter.
Relief hits me hard. Then suspicion slides in right after it, cold and unwelcome. Because if there’s a mole, it could be anyone. I hate that thought. I hate it so much it makes my stomach twist. These people are my family. The people I would bleed for. The people who would bleed for me.
But I have watched evil wear friendly faces before.
Goldenbell was a lesson in that.
Arrow finds me, and his eyes flick to my face, reading the damage. “You okay?”
I nod once. “I’m here.” That is my way of saying I’m not okay, but I’m functional.
Juno slips past him and into the exam room.
Salem lifts her head and her expression breaks for half a second.
Juno crosses the room and wraps her arms around her like she’s been waiting to do it for weeks.
Salem clutches her back hard. Lark follows, hovering for a beat before joining the hug, then River steps in too, tears in her eyes.
Gage stays near the doorway, protective and tense, gaze locking on Salem’s bruise like he wants to hunt someone down and tear them apart with his hands. Knight hangs back, arms folded, but his eyes stay soft on Lark like he is checking if she is okay too.
Arrow stays with me in the hall. He looks at me for a long moment. “Talk.”
I glance around. Nurses and patients move past. A cop stands at the end of the corridor, speaking with a doctor.
Too many ears. Too many variables. I grip Arrow’s elbow and tug him toward a quieter section near a vending machine alcove where the noise is slightly muffled and the walls feel less exposed.
Arrow follows without hesitation.
I lower my voice. “Salem’s father said something before we got him out.”
Arrow’s eyes sharpen. “What did he say?”
“He said Serafina found out he hired Maddox because someone sold him out,” I say. My throat feels tight. “He thinks there’s a mole close to Maddox.”
Arrow’s face goes still. “Salem told you,” Arrow says.
I nod. “She told me right before the ambulance doors closed. He warned her again after.”
Arrow exhales slowly, gaze flicking down the hall to where our people are clustered. “He said a mole inside Maddox.”
“Or someone close enough to leak contracts,” I say. “Either way, it’s bad.”
Arrow’s jaw clenches. “Yeah.”
My stomach twists. “It can’t be one of us.”
Arrow looks at me like he already knows I need that reassurance. “It’s not us. You know us, Oz. We grew up together. You, me, Render, Poe, Gage, and Knight. We’re brothers.”
I swallow hard. “You’re sure.”
Arrow’s eyes hold mine, steady and certain. “As sure as I can be about anything.”
That helps. A little.
I watch him pull his phone out and step a few paces away, posture tightening as he makes a call. His voice stays low and controlled, but I can still catch pieces. “Dean. We have a problem.”
My pulse kicks up.
Arrow listens, his face changing slightly. Not panic. More like something just confirmed a suspicion. Then Arrow says, “When?” He pauses again, eyes narrowing. I hear him say, “Copy.” When he ends the call, he looks back at me with a grim expression.
“What?” I ask, bracing.
Arrow’s voice is flat. “Dean says their whole system just went down.”
My blood turns cold. “Went down how.”
“Hacked,” Arrow replies. “Total blackout. Comm interruptions. Access points compromised. Rae got kicked off the secure channels and had to switch to backups.”
My stomach drops. “Do they know who did it?”
Arrow shakes his head. “Dean doesn’t.”
I clench my fists at my sides, forcing myself not to pace because pacing in a hospital makes you look guilty or unhinged, and right now I need to look like a man in control.
“They hit Maddox right after Salem’s father said there’s a mole,” I mutter.
Arrow nods. “Timing is not a coincidence.”
My heart pumps rapidly through my system, anger and fear mixing again. “So what now?”
Arrow’s gaze flicks toward the exam room. “We get Salem out of here. We get her back to HQ. We keep her close, and we keep our mouths shut in public. We assume anyone listening is already listening.”
I swallow hard. “And her father?”
Arrow’s face hardens. “Dean will take care of him. Sawyer already has a protective detail on him. He’s a priority now.”
A nurse walks by pushing a cart. Arrow and I stop talking instantly, like our words can be seen in the air. When she passes, I breathe again. My brain keeps running in circles around one truth. Someone’s inside.
Or someone’s close enough to touch Maddox from the outside. Either way, the net is tightening.
I turn and walk back toward Salem’s room.
Inside, she’s still sitting on the bed, but she looks slightly less hollow with Juno’s hands on her shoulders and Lark’s water bottle pressed into her palm. River is wiping her eyes quickly like she hates being caught crying. Gage is leaning in the doorway, arms folded, protective as a wall.
Salem’s gaze snaps to me as soon as I enter. Her expression softens at the sight of me. Not weak. Never weak. Just… relieved.
It hits me so hard it makes my throat burn. I cross the room and crouch in front of her, placing my hands on her knees gently. “Hey.”
Salem’s fingers curl around my wrist. “Hey.” Her voice is steady, but I can hear the tremor beneath it. The aftershock.
I glance at Juno and the others. “Give us a minute.”
Nobody argues.
Juno squeezes Salem’s shoulder and steps out first, motioning the others with her. River hesitates, eyes lingering on Salem like she wants to wrap her in bubble wrap, but Gage guides her out. Lark and Knight follow, Lark giving Salem a small nod that says she’s here whenever Salem needs her.
The door clicks shut, and the room quiets except for the hum of the ventilation and the distant murmur of the hospital outside.
Salem looks at me with eyes that have seen too much in too little time. “You look wrecked,” she says softly.
I give a humorless smile. “I feel worse than I look.”
Her gaze flicks to the bruise on her cheek, then back to my eyes. “I’m okay.”
I swallow, my chest tight. “You shouldn’t have to be okay after that.”
Salem’s mouth tightens. “But I am.”
I nod, because fighting her strength is pointless. It’s part of her. It’s why I fell so hard. I squeeze her knees gently. “We’re heading back to HQ.”
She nods. “My father.”
“He’s being stabilized,” I say carefully. “They’re keeping him here for now. He’s going to be guarded.”
Salem’s throat works. “He told me… he told me something else before they moved him.”
My stomach tightens. “I know.”
Her eyes sharpen. “Arrow knows?”
I nod. “Arrow called Dean. Maddox systems went down. Someone hacked them.”
Salem goes still, her face paling. “So it’s true.”
“It’s possible,” I say. “But we don’t panic. We get smart.”
Salem stares at her hands for a moment, then lifts her gaze back to me. Her eyes are glossy but fierce. “I was so scared.” The words are small, and they slice straight through me.
I move closer and press my forehead to hers, careful of her bruise. “I know.”
Her breath shudders. “I thought… I thought I was never getting out.”
My throat burns. “You’re here.”
She grips my wrist harder. “You came in.”
My chest tightens. “Always.”
Salem exhales, and something inside her shifts. Like a wall that has been holding for too long finally cracks open. “I don’t want to go back to my life,” she whispers. “Not the old one. The one where nobody cared if I disappeared.”
My jaw clenches. “You are not going back to that.”
Salem’s voice trembles. “Promise.”
I lift my head and look at her. I want her to see the truth in my face. “I promise.”
Her eyes search mine like she’s trying to memorize me.
I feel something in my chest rise, hot and urgent, because there is no clean, perfect moment for this. There is only now. I inhale slowly. “Salem?”
She blinks. “What?”
My voice comes out rough. “I love you.”
Her eyes widen. For half a heartbeat, she looks stunned, like she doesn’t know what to do with the words. Then her expression changes, something soft and fierce blooming at the same time. Her throat works. “Ozzy…”
“I’m serious,” I say, my hands sliding to her sides, steadying her. “I know the timing is ugly and insane and not romantic. I know we’re in a hospital and we’re talking about moles and syndicates and your father being half dead. I don’t care. I love you.”
Salem’s eyes fill. A tear slips down her cheek, and she wipes it away like she’s angry at it. Then she cups my face with both hands, fingers trembling. “I love you too.” The words hit me like oxygen. Like relief. Like the only good thing in a world that keeps trying to rot.
I close my eyes for a second, pressing my cheek into her palm. When I open them, she’s still looking at me like I’m real.
She whispers, “I don’t even know how.”
I give a small, shaky laugh. “Neither do I.”
Salem leans forward and kisses me. It’s not wild. It’s not desperate.
It’s solid.
A promise.
A stake in the ground.
When she pulls back, her forehead rests against mine again. “This isn’t over,” she whispers.
“No,” I agree. “But we’re not alone.”
Her mouth tightens. “What if the mole is someone close? What if it’s someone we trust?”
My stomach twists again, but I keep my voice steady. “Then we find them.”
Salem swallows. “And Serafina.”
I nod. “We find her too.”
A knock sounds at the door. Sawyer’s voice comes through, calm but urgent. “Ozzy. Salem. We need to move.”
I pull back, keeping my hands on Salem’s waist. “Ready?”
Salem nods, then hesitates. Her eyes lock on mine again. “Say it again.”
“I love you,” I say without blinking.
Her lips tremble into a smile that is both broken and beautiful. “Okay.”
I stand and help her off the bed. Her knees wobble slightly, but she steadies herself fast.
When we open the door, our people are there, waiting.
Arrow’s face is tight. Juno looks worried but steady.
Gage’s gaze sharpens on Salem, protective.
River offers Salem a small smile that says she understands what it means to love a dangerous man.
Knight and Lark stand close together, Lark’s hand brushing Knight’s arm like she is anchoring herself.
We move down the hall as a group, drawing eyes because we look like trouble. A nurse watches us pass, suspicion and curiosity in her face.
As we reach the exit, my phone buzzes.
A message from Rae, short and chilling.
SYSTEMS DOWN. INTERNAL ACCESS USED. WE ARE COMPROMISED.
My stomach drops.
I tuck the phone away and keep walking, keeping Salem close enough that my shoulder brushes hers.
She looks up at me. “What is it?”
I keep my voice low. “Rae says internal access was used.”
Salem’s face tightens. “So the mole is real.”
I don’t answer out loud. Because I do not want to speak that possibility into the air where anyone could hear.
But as we step into the cold night outside the hospital, with sirens in the distance and the world feeling too big and too hungry, one truth settles heavy in my chest. Someone inside Maddox Security wants Salem back in a cage.
And they already know where we’re headed.