25. Knox
Knox
I drive.
Mostly because I don’t trust Havoc to keep his mouth shut and his speed reasonable at the same time, and because Vale is gone and I don’t want Lena in the passenger seat while I’m trying to think around that.
The city is sliding toward evening now, all gray light and damp roads and people heading home to lives that still make sense. Havoc is in the front beside me, one elbow on the window ledge, too loose for my liking. Lena is in the back seat.
I can feel her there even when I’m not looking at the mirror. Too quiet at first. Then not quiet enough.
She says, “So is this what it’s going to be?”
I keep my eyes on the road. “What?”
“Me sitting in the back of a car with two men who keep half answering everything.”
Havoc grins. “That depends. You planning to be difficult?”
“I think I’ve earned difficult.”
The silence after that isn’t bad. Just strained. The kind that still has room for questions.
“You called yourself Saints, so I’m assuming that means that you’re the hitmen.”
“I don’t like that word,” Havoc says.
Lena rolls her eyes. “And you report to someone called Apostle. Am I getting that right?”
I shake my head. “We report to the Elders. We don’t directly contact the Apostles.”
“And the guy today was an Elder?” she asks.
“No, a Shepherd, they clean stuff up for us,” Havoc says.
“You mean dead bodies,” she says, looking uncomfortable.
He shrugs. “Amongst other things.”
“Do I even want to know? Actually, don’t bother.” She sighs. “Oh my God my head hurts already.”
“The Brotherhood is a complex organization, and even we don’t know all parts of it,” I tell her. “Now I hope we’re done with the questions.”
She asks the next one anyway. “How long have you three known each other?”
I don’t answer right away. Not because I can’t. Because I know Havoc will, and I’m trying to decide whether stopping him is worth the effort.
It isn’t.
“Years,” he says. “Long enough to know all the boring parts and still not leave.”
I glance at him. “That’s one version.”
He shrugs. “It’s the charming version.”
Lena leans forward a little from the back. I see her in the mirror, chin resting near the front seat, watching us both. “What’s the real version?”
Havoc looks at me, smiling like he knows exactly how much I hate this already.
Then he says, “Vale came in first. Pretty boy with trauma and a death wish. Knox after that, all military background and control issues. Me last, because apparently God wanted to make sure nobody got too comfortable.”
I grip the wheel a little tighter.
Lena says, “That answered almost nothing.”
“I thought it was quite informative,” Havoc says.
“It was colorful,” she says. “Not informative.”
I should shut this down. Instead I hear myself say, “We weren’t assigned together at first.”
Havoc turns his head just enough to look at me. Mild surprise. He recovers fast.
Lena catches it too, because of course she does. “But?”
“But we worked well together.”
Havoc laughs under his breath. “Translation: everyone else either annoyed him or died.”
I look at him. “Keep talking.”
He smiles wider, which is answer enough on its own.
Lena says, “And you all just… stayed together?”
“No,” I say. “Nothing about this works that simply.”
She waits. I keep driving. Turn left. Brake once at a light. Watch a motorbike cut too close and let it go.
Then I say, “The Brotherhood keeps what’s useful.”
Havoc adds, “And breaks what isn’t.”
She goes quiet for a second.
Then: “And you two were useful.”
“Three,” Havoc corrects. “Do keep up.”
She ignores him. “To each other?”
I glance in the mirror. There’s something careful in her face now. Less panic than before. More thought. She’s not just trying to understand the Brotherhood. She’s trying to understand us. Which is more dangerous for all of us than she probably realizes.
I say, “In the field.”
Havoc snorts. “Romantic.”
“So Knox has military background, and Vale has…his father? How did you end up in all of this business?” she asks Havoc.
“I’m self-taught. A natural talent. Gifted, really.”
I can feel her staring at the back of his head. Then she says, “That sounds like a lie.”
He looks pleased. “Only partly.”
I don’t like how easily this is happening.
I don’t like how easily Havoc is talking.
He usually talks for effect, to destabilize, to entertain himself, to set other people off.
But this is different. He’s not just winding her up.
He’s giving her pieces. Nothing critical.
Nothing operational. Still more than I would have expected.
Does that mean he actually likes her?
Of course he likes her. That much is obvious. He wanted her from the beginning. The difference is that wanting and liking are not usually the same thing with Havoc. One burns fast. The other… I don’t know if I’ve seen it enough to trust it.
That possibility bothers me more than it should. Maybe because it means I’m not the only one losing perspective.
“So you guys are basically weapons for this… cult. And you like it here?” she says.
“No one stays because they want to.”
Havoc says, “Speak for yourself.”
I look at him. “I am.”
He smiles, but there’s less humor in it now.
Lena sits back a little, processing that. Then she says, “You all talk like this is some kind of life sentence.”
“It is,” Havoc says.
I don’t correct him.
We stop at a light. Red bleeding across the dash. A couple walking past on the corner, arguing quietly over something that has nothing to do with contracts or cameras or dead men. I watch them for a second and then the light changes.
For a few minutes, nobody speaks.
Then she says, “What happens if Vale doesn’t come back soon?”
I keep my eyes on the road.
Havoc’s posture changes beside me. Not much. Enough.
I answer carefully. “He will.”
That’s not what she asked.
But it’s the only answer I’m giving right now.
The motel sign comes into view a few streets later, flickering weakly against the darkening sky. As I pull into the lot, I catch Havoc looking at me from the corner of my eye. Not amused now. Not careless either. Measuring.
I know that look. He’s wondering the same thing I am.
Whether he likes her.
Whether that changes anything.
Whether any of us are still thinking clearly.
I kill the engine and sit there for one second with my hands on the wheel.
Then I say, “Inside.”
Havoc gets out first.
Lena follows.
And as I watch them cross the lot ahead of me, I know one thing for certain: I do not like how much he gave away in that car. And I like even less that she seemed to understand it.
I go inside last after I call Vale for the third time. No answer again. A prickle of unease moves through me, but I decide to shelve it away. It won’t be so easy to take out the little sucker.
The motel room door is half-open, light spilling out into the walkway in a pale strip. I push it wider and step in, already tired of the day and of everyone in it.
Havoc is too close to her.
Not touching. Not quite. But close enough to make the space feel occupied, his body angled toward Lena like the room belongs to him and she’s something he’s decided to stand near.
She’s pacing in front of the bed, arms folded tight, turning at the far wall and turning back again, phoneless and furious and wound up enough to vibrate.
And something in me snaps. Just all at once, like a line pulled too tight finally giving way inside my chest.
I shut the door harder than I mean to.
Both of them look at me.
Lena stops pacing. “Any news?”
I don’t answer right away. I’m still looking at Havoc. He sees it. Of course he does. His mouth shifts, not a smile exactly, but close enough to make me want to hit him.
“What?” he says.
“Back up.”
His brows lift. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Lena looks between us. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
Havoc doesn’t move. If anything, he settles more comfortably into the space, one shoulder against the dresser, all easy posture and bad instincts. “You think that tone’s helping?”
“No,” I say. “I think distance might.”
Then he laughs once, soft and ugly. “That what this is?”
I don’t answer.
“We’ve got bigger problems,” he says.
“Then stop making new ones.”
“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Havoc shoots back.
Lena rubs a hand over her face. “Can you not do this right now?”
Havoc ignores her, eyes still on me. “You want to say what your actual problem is?”
“My problem,” I say, “is that every time you start enjoying yourself, the rest of us pay for it.”
He laughs again, wicked this time. “That’s rich.”
“Really? Look around you. Look how things have spiraled. And we keep making stupid mistakes.”
“Like what?” Havoc says, briefly glancing at Lena before turning to me. One of his brows shoots up as if he’s finally making sense of where my anger is coming from.
“We should have never gone to that Shepherd,” I say.
“And who sent us there in the first place?” he shoots back.
“That was my mistake,” I admit. “He knew something last night and said nothing. He changed his mind overnight. He’s still not telling us everything.”
“Agreed,” Havoc says.
That throws me for half a beat.
Then he adds, “Which is why we should kill him.”
Lena stops dead in the middle of the room. “What?”
Havoc turns his head toward her like that is the most reasonable thing he’s said all day. “He’s a variable. Variables get worse, not better.”
She stares at him. “You can’t be serious.”
“I’m extremely serious.”
I look at him. “No.”
He looks back at me. “No because you think I’m wrong, or no because you’re still pretending the Brotherhood’s going to clean this up for us?”
Lena says, “You’re talking about murdering the only person who’s actually given you anything useful.”
“He’s given us crumbs,” Havoc says. “And a threat.”
“No,” I say simply.
Havoc cracks his knuckles. “Don’t worry, I’ll make the problem go away.”
“Voss shouldn’t be touched,” I warn him. But Havoc already has that manic look on his face. I can practically see the wheels turning in his eyes.