Chapter 12
Something is wrong. It hits me before I step through the Blue Note’s door. No danger, not yet. But the electric sensation that raises the hairs on the back of my neck whenever shit’s about to hit the fan puts me on high alert.
A melancholy saxophone plays from the speakers overhead as I cross toward the bar, each step echoing in the empty space.
Ghost stands behind the polished wood, his attention on the ledger open before him. His fingers move across the page, red pen marking through entries. I catch sight of two Omega names crossed out in crimson before he closes the book and slides it beneath the counter.
Without saying a word, I know something bad has happened, and more is coming.
“You’re earlier than usual,” Ghost comments as he wipes down an already clean glass.
I shrug, settling onto a stool and scanning the room. “Needed to kill some time before work.”
Rowan sits at the far end of the bar, his knuckles white around a tumbler of amber liquid. His jaw ticks with tension, a muscle jumping beneath his skin. I’ve seen that look before, always right before violence explodes.
Conversations drift through the room, as the barback speaks to a waitress near the stage, her head bent close to his as they whisper.
“—three Omegas in one night gone missing near the docks—”
“—warehouse fire—nothing left but concrete—”
“—strange scent lingering for days, chemical but sweet—”
My shoulders tighten.
Ghost sets a glass of water before me without asking.
The ice clinks as I lift it, cold spreading through my palm. “When did it start?”
“Reports came in around four this morning.” Ghost arranges bottles behind the bar. “Two from our network near the port, one from uptown.”
Rowan turns his head, catching my eye. “What did you and Fancy Loafers find down at the docks?”
Irritation spikes through me at the disparaging nickname he gives Gabriel, but before I can correct him, my phone vibrates in my pocket, the screen lighting up with Micah’s name.
I swipe to answer, holding it to my ear as I turn away from the bar.
“Saint? Thank god!” Micah shouts in a rush of relieved anxiety. “Are you okay? Have you heard what’s happening?”
“I’m fine,” I say, aware of how fast Micah picks up on stress. “What’s going on?”
“Rockford Manor is under complete lockdown. Security everywhere. Aaiden’s pulled in every enforcer they have on payroll.
” Words tumble out of him so fast he has to catch his breath.
“Sebastian has people scanning traffic cams, and Nolan’s called in favors with the police commissioner, but nobody will tell me anything. ”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m sure they just want to keep everyone safe.”
“Last night, Ezra was heading out for a meeting, and Aaiden blocked him from leaving. They had a massive fight in the foyer.” He pauses, his breathing ragged. “Saint, I’ve never seen Aaiden like this. He’s not the calm, collected Rockford president right now. He’s on a warpath.”
Micah lowers his voice. “Have you seen Gabriel? He’s not answering any calls, and Aaiden is losing his mind over it. Sebastian keeps saying he’s ‘handling an aspect of the situation,’ but won’t elaborate.”
Heat creeps up my neck in a mixture of guilt and concern. Gabriel had been in my bed this morning. In my shower. Drinking coffee in my kitchen while his older brother was going crazy with worry.
“No,” I lie, the word slipping out smooth and practiced. “I think he finally took the hint to leave me alone.”
“Fuck.” Micah exhales. “Can you come to the manor? We’re bringing in everyone connected to the family. Aaiden wants you here.”
My spine stiffens. “Why me?”
“Because you’re involved now,” Micah whispers, as if someone might overhear. “Sebastian found a list with every Rockford mate and family ally. It’s a target list, Saint. He also found one for Samuel Ortiz, too. I’m trying to track down where it came from, but it’s proving problematic.”
The room tilts, and I grab for the bar to ground myself. “I can take care of myself.”
“Saint, please.” Micah’s fear comes through the speaker. “This isn’t about being stubborn or independent. This is serious. Whoever is behind this isn’t playing games anymore.”
“Everything’s under control, Micah. I’ll be fine.”
I end the call before he can object again and tuck the phone away, turning back to find Ghost and Rowan watching me with identical expressions of concern.
“How bad?” Rowan asks.
I blow out a long breath. “My name showed up on the dark web. My legal one.”
Ghost tenses. “A hit list?”
“Probably.” I scrub a hand down my face. “Tony’s targeting Rockford mates and allies.”
Rowan slams his glass down, liquid sloshing over the rim. “Fuck. Tell me what went down at the docks, and anything else you’ve learned.”
Bringing Rowan up to speed takes a distressing lack of time. Aside from the bribes, confirming Tony is trying to set up a new network, and the name Darrow, we don’t know anything else that can lead us to stopping this asshole.
Unlike my conversation with Gabriel, though, I also include the tidbit about Darrow knowing about my time in juvie.
Rowan slams his fist into the bar, and his glass wobbles before righting itself.
“I can reach out to our contacts at the docks. They owe us some favors,” Ghost offers, already reaching for his phone.
“No,” I say. “Too risky. If they’ve uncovered my real name, they’ve done their research. We can’t have them connecting me to the Blue Note.”
Rowan turns to Ghost. “Look into it. I want details about what they want with Saint.”
The door behind me opens, letting in a slash of daylight that stretches across the floor. I don’t need to turn to know who just arrived. My body responds before my brain, heart rate kicking up as Gabriel’s scent reaches me, now familiar enough for me to pick it out from across a room.
“We’ve got bigger problems,” Rowan mutters, staring past my shoulder. “Your rich boy is here, and he doesn’t look happy.”
Gabriel stands in the doorway, backlit by morning sun. He’s changed clothes since leaving my apartment and now wears a crisp navy shirt with dark jeans that highlight his slender hips. His hair looks different, too, styled with product instead of frizzy from my cheap shampoo.
I don’t know where he went after we parted ways. I had assumed he was going back to Rockford Manor, but if Aaiden is still searching for him, then he has somewhere else in town he’s been staying.
He strides across the lounge, but instead of sliding onto the stool beside me, he positions his body between me and the rest of the room, standing with his back to the bar so he can watch the door.
I frown at him. “What’s going on?”
Gabriel scans the room before answering. “None of the dockworkers we have on the payroll showed up for work today.”
I stiffen. “You think Darrow got to them?”
“Someone sure as hell did,” he says, meant for my ears alone. “Tony isn’t waiting to see if the Rockfords will back off. He’s escalating for maximum fallout.”
Gabriel’s hand comes to rest on the back of my stool, fingers inches from my spine in a territorial gesture.
I stiffen, ready to tell him to back off, when Ghost slides a folded note across the bar.
Ghost’s face remains impassive, but his mismatched eyes hold mine for a beat.
I unfold the paper to read the single line of Ghost’s handwriting flowing across the page.
Bounty: $250,000 for Samuel Ortiz, alive.
My stomach drops, and when I look at Gabriel, I find no hint of shock. His lips flatten into a tight line, but he’s unsurprised by the revelation.
“How long have you known?” I demand.
Gabriel’s eyes flick to Ghost and back to me. “Sebastian intercepted the bounty notice around five this morning. I didn’t see it until around nine, though.”
My gut tightens. The phone call I interrupted when I came out of the shower.
I crumple the paper. “Were you going to mention it?”
“Yes.” His answer comes without hesitation. “But I needed to coordinate protection protocols first.”
“Coordinate,” I spit out. “While I walked around with a target on my back.”
“You were with me.” Gabriel remains frustratingly calm. “No one was getting to you while I was there.”
So that’s why he followed me all the way to the lounge before parting ways this morning.
Anger pulses hot beneath my skin. Not because he protected me, but because he decided for me, not with me. He measured the risk, calculated my response, and chose what information I deserved based on his own assessment.
“You should have told me right away,” I hiss, aware of Rowan watching our exchange with interest.
Gabriel’s composure cracks. “And what would you have done?”
“That wasn’t your call to make.”
“I was trying to—”
“Protect me?” I cut him off. “Or control the situation?”
His eyes narrow. “Is there a difference?”
“To you? It seems not.”
Ghost clears his throat and slides a second folded paper across the bar. This one he pushes toward Gabriel, who takes it without breaking eye contact with me.
“The warehouse fire wasn’t random,” Ghost says, just loud enough to carry over the soft jazz. “It was a cleansing operation.”
Gabriel unfolds the note, scans its contents, and his jaw locks into place. “How reliable is this information?”
“Came from three separate sources.” Ghost takes a step back. “The timeline matches.”
Gabriel passes the note to me. The paper lists coordinates, times, and names I don’t recognize, except for the final line: T.R. handling contamination.
“Tony was there himself,” I translate, reading between the lines.
“So it appears,” Gabriel says. “Which means whatever was in the warehouse was important enough to risk exposure.”
A sick feeling twists in my gut. The missing Omegas. The warehouse fire. The bounty on my head. They’re all connected, pieces of a larger plan I can’t yet see.
“If Tony’s making a public move on the Rockfords,” Rowan says, “we need to decide where we stand.”