Chapter 5
Collision Course
The crack of gunfire still echoed through the valley as Caleb tore through the dense underbrush, his pulse hammering in sync with the rapid thud of his boots against the dry earth. The midday sun blazed overhead, casting harsh shadows through the thick canopy of the forest surrounding Castillo Ranch. Somewhere ahead, Luca Moretti was running, slipping between the trees like a phantom.
Caleb’s breathing was harsh, controlled. He ignored the sting in his side where a branch had slashed through his shirt. His focus was locked on the flicker of movement ahead; the brief rustle of leaves, the faint crunch of dirt under Luca’s steps. The bastard was fast, but Caleb was relentless. And he had questions. Too many questions.
“You can’t outrun me, Moretti!” Caleb shouted, vaulting over a fallen log. He landed hard, his ankle twisting slightly, but he pushed forward. The air was thick with heat, the scent of pine and churned-up soil mixing with the acrid stench of gunpowder still clinging to his clothes.
His mind raced as he ran, the image of Luca’s face, older, harder, but undeniably his, burning in his memory. How had it come to this? How had the boy he’d loved, the boy he’d thought he’d lost forever, become this man running from him through the woods?
Luca didn’t slow. If anything, he moved faster, zigzagging through the trees, forcing Caleb to adjust constantly. Caleb grit his teeth; this wasn’t just a blind escape. Luca knew exactly what he was doing, using every tree, every rock, every dip in the terrain to his advantage. The bastard was trying to wear him down. And it was working. Caleb’s legs burned, his lungs screaming for air, but he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when he was so close.
A sharp crack sounded to his left. Caleb barely had time to react before Luca emerged from the brightness, pivoting and kicking up dirt as he changed direction. Caleb cursed under his breath, adjusting his course. Luca wasn’t just running; he was playing a game; one Caleb wasn’t sure he could win. But he couldn’t let him go.
Caleb’s hand hovered near his holster. He could end this now. A single shot to the leg, slow him down, but something held him back. Maybe it was the memory of Luca’s laugh, the way his eyes had crinkled at the corners when he smiled. Maybe it was the way Luca had looked at him back at the stable, like he was seeing a ghost. Or maybe it was the chaos still raging back at the ranch; DEA agents swarming the meeting, bullets flying. He needed to bring him in, not put another body in the dirt. Not Luca. Never Luca.
The trees suddenly thinned, and Luca took his chance; he darted toward a rocky incline, scrambling up the jagged surface with a speed that made Caleb’s jaw tighten.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Caleb growled, pushing himself harder. He scaled the incline, boots slipping against loose gravel. Luca had the advantage of a head start, but Caleb had momentum. He surged forward, reaching out just as Luca twisted, aiming a wild punch at his face.
Caleb ducked, but the next hit landed; a solid jab to his ribs that sent him reeling back a step. Luca didn’t waste time. He lunged, shoving Caleb backward, trying to knock him down the incline.
Caleb grunted, digging his heel in at the last second. He caught Luca’s arm, twisted, and used the momentum to drive them both to the ground. They hit the earth hard, rolling through the dirt and leaves in a vicious tangle of limbs and curses.
Luca fought like a man who had everything to lose. He swung again, but Caleb deflected, catching Luca’s wrist and slamming it against the ground. Luca snarled, trying to twist free, but Caleb straddled him, pinning him down with his full weight.
Luca’s chest heaved, his green eyes flashing with something between fury and amusement. He was breathing hard, his lip split from the struggle, but the smirk on his face was infuriatingly intact. Caleb’s heart pounded, not just from the exertion but from the proximity, the heat of Luca’s body beneath him, the way his eyes held a challenge Caleb hadn’t seen in twenty years.
“Got ya,” Caleb growled, pressing his forearm against Luca’s throat.
Luca coughed, the smirk still curling at the edge of his bloodied lips. “Took you long enough.”
Caleb exhaled sharply, ignoring the heat radiating between them. “You and I are going to have a little chat.”
Luca’s smirk didn’t fade. “Oh, agent, I thought you’d never ask.”
For a moment, they just stared at each other, the weight of the past hanging heavy between them. Caleb’s mind raced with questions, accusations, things he’d wanted to say for years but never had the chance. But before he could speak, Luca’s expression shifted, the smirk fading into something softer, something that made Caleb’s chest ache.
“You shouldn’t have come after me, Caleb,” Luca said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Some things are better left in the past.”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, his grip on Luca’s wrist tightening. “You don’t get to decide that.”
Luca’s eyes searched his face, and for a moment, Caleb thought he saw something; regret, maybe, or longing. But then it was gone, replaced by that infuriating smirk. “You always were stubborn.”
“Shut up,” Caleb shot back, but there was no real heat in his words. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down, not now. Not when Luca was still so damn unpredictable.
Caleb yanked Luca onto his stomach, kneeing him between the shoulder blades as he snapped the cuffs around his wrists. The metal bit into Luca’s skin, but he barely flinched. Instead, he let out a slow exhale and turned his head slightly, smirking up at Caleb from the dirt.
“You’re enjoying this way too much, Smith,” Luca said, his voice dripping with that same teasing tone Caleb remembered from years ago. It was infuriating, how little had changed.
Caleb ignored him, gripping Luca’s arm and hauling him upright. “Shut up and walk.”
“Oh, come on, at least buy me dinner first,” Luca drawled as he stumbled forward, dirt and dried leaves clinging to his clothes. “I like a little romance before getting manhandled.”
Caleb gave him a sharp tug, his jaw clenched so tight it ached. “I don’t have the patience for your bullshit, Moretti.”
Luca grinned despite the ache spreading through his ribs. “That so? Because I distinctly remember you chasing me down like a man possessed just a few moments ago.” He cast a glance over his shoulder, his green eyes gleaming with something dangerously close to amusement. “Almost like you didn’t want to let me go.”
Caleb’s chest tightened, the memory of their last night together flashing unbidden in his mind; his bedroom, the way Luca had kissed him like he was the only thing that mattered. He shoved the thought aside, his grip on Luca’s arm tightening. “Keep talking, see what happens.”
They moved through the forest, Caleb keeping a firm hold on Luca’s arm, though Luca wasn’t exactly making it easy. He let his weight drag every few steps, earning himself a rough jerk forward each time. If Caleb was going to treat him like a prisoner, he might as well make it as annoying as possible.
“You always were a pain in my ass,” Caleb muttered under his breath, more to himself than to Luca. But Luca heard him anyway.
“And you always liked it,” Luca shot back, his smirk widening. “Admit it, Smith. You missed me.”
Caleb didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Because the truth was, he had missed Luca. More than he’d ever admit. But this wasn’t the time or the place for that conversation. Not with Luca in cuffs and the wreckage of the ambush waiting for them just beyond the trees.
The gunfire had died down by the time they reached the edge of the woods, but the aftermath of the ambush was clear. Smoke curled into the sky from one of the outbuildings, and bodies littered the ground; cartel men and DEA agents alike. Vehicles were overturned, bullet holes riddling their frames. The entire scene was a fucking mess.
Luca barely had time to take it all in before movement ahead caught his attention. A group of agents emerged from the wreckage; their weapons raised. Caleb stiffened beside him, his hold tightening.
“Smith.” Agent Herrera stepped forward, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. “What the hell happened out there?”
Caleb frowned, his grip on Luca tightening instinctively. “What do you mean? I caught him.” He jerked Luca slightly for emphasis. “He was trying to run.”
Herrera's gaze flicked to Luca, then back to Caleb, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Miguel Castillo is gone.”
The words hit Caleb like a punch to the gut. “Come again?”
“Gone,” Herrera repeated, her tone flat. “Slipped out while you were chasing your little friend here. Almost like he knew we were coming.”
Caleb’s mind raced, the pieces clicking into place with a sickening clarity.
“That’s not possible,” Caleb said, his voice tight. “We had this locked down. No way in, no way out.”
“Yeah?” Herrera crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Then explain how he walked right out of here while you were conveniently occupied.”
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and unspoken. Caleb felt the weight of it settle over him, heavy and suffocating. He scanned the faces around him, searching for some sign of solidarity, but all he found was suspicion.
“You’re joking,” Caleb said, his voice cold. “You actually think I tipped him off?”
Herrera didn’t flinch. “Orders came down. Until we figure this out, you’re both coming with us.”
Both .
The word landed like a hammer to the ribs. Caleb’s stomach churned as rough hands seized him, taking his weapons.. The cold bite of metal cuffs snapped into place, the sound final and damning.
Luca let out a low whistle, his smirk widening. “Well, well. Looks like the golden boy’s lost his shine.”
“Shut the hell up,” Caleb snapped, his patience wearing thin. He turned to Johnson standing at the side, his voice low and urgent. “You know me. You know I wouldn’t do this.”
For a moment, his expression wavered, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the same hard mask she’d worn before.
“I don’t know what to think,” he said quietly. “But until we get answers, you’re off the board. Boss’s orders.”
Caleb’s chest tightened as the agents led him away, Luca walking beside him with a swagger that made Caleb want to break his nose. The ranch faded into the distance, replaced by the dark silhouette of a nondescript van waiting at the edge of the property. The back doors swung open, revealing a hollow, windowless interior.
“Get in,” one of the agents ordered, shoving Caleb forward.
He hesitated, his mind racing. This wasn’t protocol. This wasn’t right. But before he could protest, a hand on the back of his head forced him into the van. Luca followed, his movements fluid and unbothered, as if this were just another day in his chaotic life.
The doors slammed shut, plunging them into darkness. The engine roared to life, and the van lurched forward, the motion jostling Caleb against the metal wall. He clenched his jaw, his mind spinning with questions he couldn’t answer.
“You know,” Luca said, his voice cutting through the silence, “this is the most fun I’ve had all week.”
Caleb turned his head, though he couldn’t see Luca in the dark. “You think this is funny?”
“Kind of,” Luca admitted. “I mean, you’re the one who cuffed me, and now here we are.”
Caleb exhaled sharply, his frustration bubbling over. “This isn’t a joke, Luca. Someone set me up. And if they’re willing to go this far, it means they’re not playing around.”
Luca was quiet for a moment, the humor fading from his voice as he, as if reading Caleb’s mind asked, “You think there’s a mole?”
“I know there is,” Caleb whispered, his tone grim.
The van hit a bump, jolting them both. Caleb’s mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the night. The ambush. The chase. The way Castillo had slipped through their fingers like smoke. It all pointed to one thing: betrayal .
???
The van rattled along the uneven road, the sound of the engine a low growl that filled the cramped, windowless space. Caleb sat with his back against the cold metal wall, his cuffed hands resting on his knees.
The air was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe. He stared straight ahead, his jaw clenched so tight it ached, his mind racing through every possible scenario, every angle, every mistake that had led him here.
Luca, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease. He lounged against the opposite wall, his long legs stretched out in front of him, his cuffed hands resting casually on his stomach. A smirk played on his lips, and his dark eyes gleamed with amusement as he watched Caleb stew in silence.
“You know,” Luca said, breaking the quiet, “this is almost poetic.”
Caleb didn’t respond. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Not yet. Not when every word out of Luca’s mouth felt like a match thrown on the kindling of his anger.
Luca tilted his head, his smirk widening. “I mean, think about it. You left. Went off to play hero with the DEA. And now, here you are. Cuffed. Labeled a traitor. Sitting next to me, of all people.” He chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “If that’s not karma, I don’t know what is.”
Caleb’s hands flexed involuntarily, the cuffs biting into his wrists. He forced himself to stay calm, to keep his breathing even, but it was a struggle. Luca had always had a way of getting under his skin, of finding the cracks in his armor and prying them open.
“You done?” Caleb asked, his voice tight.
Luca shrugged; the motion exaggerated in the dim light. “Not even close. I’ve got fifteen years of material to work through, Smith. Fifteen years of you pretending I didn’t exist. Fifteen years of you playing the good little soldier while I was out there, living my best life.”
Caleb snorted, unable to stop himself. “Your best life? Is that what you call it? Running errands for your brother? Playing enforcer for the family? You’re a glorified thug, Luca. Don’t act like you’re some kind of free spirit.”
Luca’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Caleb saw the flicker of something raw in his eyes; anger, maybe, or hurt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the same cocky grin.
“Ouch,” Luca said, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offense. “That one stung. But hey, at least I’m not the one sitting here because my family considers me a traitor. Tell me, Smith, how does it feel to know your own people think you’re dirty?”
Caleb’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. “I didn’t do it.”
“Of course not,” Luca said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You would never betray your own. Face it, Caleb. You’re in deep shit, and the only person who might be able to help you is me. And let’s be honest, after everything, I’m not exactly feeling charitable.”
Caleb turned his head, finally meeting Luca’s gaze. “I don’t need your help.”
Luca laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “Yeah? Then what’s your plan, genius? You gonna talk your way out of this? Convince them it was all a big misunderstanding?” He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not the golden boy anymore, Caleb, not that you ever really were. You were just another pawn in their game, only you were too stupid to realize it. And if you don’t start thinking outside the box, you’re gonna end up buried in it.”
The words hung in the air, heavy and true. Caleb knew Luca was right, but admitting it felt like surrender. And he wasn’t ready to surrender. Not to Luca. Especially not him.
“You always did love the sound of your own voice,” Caleb said, his tone flat.
Luca grinned, leaning back against the wall. “And you always loved having a stick up your ass. Some things never change.”
The van hit a pothole, jolting them both. Caleb’s shoulder slammed into the wall, the impact sending a sharp pain through his arm. He gritted his teeth, refusing to give Luca the satisfaction of seeing him wince.
“You know,” Luca said after a moment, his voice quieter now, “I used to imagine what it would be like, seeing you again. I didn’t think it would be something like this, though.”
Caleb glanced at him, surprised by the shift in tone. There was no smirk now, no teasing glint in his eyes. Just something raw and unguarded that made Caleb’s chest tighten.
“Luca...”
“Don’t,” Luca interrupted, his voice sharp as he looked away. “Let’s just get through this and go our separate ways. Again.”
Caleb opened his mouth to respond, but the van came to a sudden stop, cutting him off. The doors swung open, flooding the interior with harsh light. Two agents stood outside; their faces obscured by the glare.
“Out,” one of them barked, gesturing with his gun.
Caleb stood, his muscles stiff from the ride. Luca followed, his smirk back in place as if the moment between them had never happened.
“After you, Smith,” Luca said, his tone light and mocking once more. “You know how much I love watching you walk away.”
Caleb shot him a glare but said nothing. He stepped out of the van, the cool night air hitting his face like a slap.
The building loomed against the night like a forgotten relic, its crumbling facade barely discernible under the pale glow of the moon. The agents dragged Caleb and Luca forward, their boots crunching against gravel and broken glass. The rusted metal door groaned as it was yanked open, a sound that sent a shiver through Caleb’s spine.
Inside, the air was damp, the scent of mildew and decay saturating the concrete walls. Water dripped somewhere unseen; each drop a hollow echo that only deepened the oppressive silence. The floor, cracked and uneven, bore the dark stains of things Caleb didn’t want to dwell on.
The narrow corridor ahead flickered with dying fluorescent lights, their unreliable glow stretching and twisting shadows along the walls. The agents marched them forward without a word, their grips like iron. Luca followed just behind Caleb, his breathing measured but tense, the kind of silence that preceded violence.
A heavy steel door groaned open, revealing a room devoid of comfort. The walls, sheer concrete, held no windows, no marks of outside world. Moisture clung to the floor, making the air thick and stagnant. A single, naked bulb swayed from the ceiling, casting a pale, sickly light over the center of the room where two metal chairs waited. Bolted to the ground, their arms and legs lined with iron restraints, they were built not for questioning but for breaking.
Caleb barely flinched as the cuffs were ripped from his wrists, only to be replaced by the unforgiving clamp of cold chains. The bite of metal against his skin was sharp, unyielding. Luca was chained beside him, his expression unreadable, but Caleb saw the way his eyes flicked around the room, cataloging every weak point, every possible exit. Survival instinct.
The door slammed shut behind the agents, leaving behind a silence so thick it pressed against the ears.
Caleb tested the restraints, muscles flexing against the metal. They didn’t budge, the clatter of links the only response. He turned his head slightly, catching Luca doing the same, though with a measured calm that made Caleb wonder what was going on behind those eyes.
“Well,” Luca finally murmured, voice rough with irritation, “this is cozy.”
Caleb didn’t answer. His thoughts moved too fast, piecing together everything that happened. This wasn’t standard protocol. This wasn’t even within the realm of legality. This was a fucking black site.
Something was very, very wrong.
The door creaked open again, slow and deliberate. A man stepped inside, broad-shouldered and imposing, his features mostly swallowed by the shadows of the dim bulb. In his grip was a black duffel bag, its fabric worn, stained. He set it down on the table between them with a dull, heavy thud.
The sound made Caleb’s stomach coil tight with dread.
The man didn’t speak at first. He moved with a slow, deliberate ease, unzipping the bag with a whisper of fabric against metal. The sound was almost gentle, a deceptive contrast to the tools he pulled free.
Pliers. A scalpel. A small blowtorch.
The stark, artificial light made each instrument gleam with an unsettling sharpness, their cruel purpose undeniable.
Caleb felt his pulse hammer against his ribs, but his expression remained locked in place. He had seen these tools before; in training footage, in crime scene photos, in the grim retellings of victims who had survived. Knowing what was coming was one thing. Living through it was another.
The man finally lifted his gaze, meeting Caleb’s eyes with a chilling emptiness. There was no malice there, no enjoyment, just cold efficiency. “I have a few questions,” he said, his voice disturbingly measured, like a doctor explaining a routine procedure. “It’ll be easier if you cooperate.”
Caleb didn’t answer. His jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists where they strained against the chains. Fear coiled in his chest, but he forced himself to meet the man’s gaze, unflinching.
The man reached for the scalpel, rolling it between his fingers as if testing its weight. The blade caught the light, flashing like a sliver of ice. “Let’s start with something simple,” he mused. “Who else knows about your side investigation?”
Caleb’s breath hitched. The world around him seemed to constrict.
How did they know?
His investigation had been off the books, buried under layers of secrecy. He had been so careful. Yet somehow, they had found out.
The man stepped closer; the scalpel poised in his grip like an artist about to begin his first stroke. “I’ll ask again,” he murmured. “Who else knows?”
Caleb swallowed down the instinct to flinch, his muscles locking into stone. He couldn’t answer. He wouldn’t.
The silence stretched between them, thick as oil, waiting for the first cut.
The man sighed, almost regretfully, then moved with a practiced ease. The blade gleamed in the dim light before it sliced through flesh. A sharp sting, then fire. Pain bloomed across Caleb’s arm, white-hot and searing. He sucked in a breath through clenched teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a sound, but his body betrayed him; his muscles tensed, jerking involuntarily against the chains.
Blood welled from the shallow cut, a dark crimson bead trailing down his arm before dripping onto the cold concrete floor. The scent of iron tainted the already stale air.
Beside him, Luca shifted, his chains clinking with the movement. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but Caleb caught it; a sharp intake of breath, the faintest tremor in his fingers before he schooled his expression back to indifference.
The man noticed too. His lips curled into something almost amused. "Don’t worry," he murmured, turning his gaze to Luca. "You’ll get your turn."
Caleb forced himself to stay still, to keep his face blank. But inside, a storm was raging.
The man returned his attention to him, his expression sharpening. "Let’s try again." He twirled the scalpel between his fingers, letting the blade catch the light before holding it just above Caleb’s skin. "Who else knows about your investigation?"
Caleb stared at the wall behind him, his breathing controlled, his pulse a steady drumbeat in his ears. He wouldn't answer. He couldn't.
The man’s lips pressed into a thin line. The scalpel was set aside, exchanged for a pair of pliers. Metal clicked as he opened and closed them, testing the grip. "You’re making this harder than it needs to be."
Caleb didn’t flinch as the pliers hovered over his hand. But when they closed over his fingernail, clamping down with slow, deliberate pressure, a tremor ran through his arm. The pressure turned brutal. Then...
Agony . Blinding, breath-stealing pain. White spots swam in his vision, his body straining against the restraints, his breath ragged. His fingers twitched uselessly in the metal’s grip, fire lancing up his arm. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth as he bit down on his tongue to keep from making a sound.
Luca made a noise, rough and unguarded. "Stop," he ground out, voice thick with something Caleb didn’t want to name. "You’re not going to get anything out of him like this."
The man didn’t spare him a glance. He moved to the next finger, gripping it firmly between the unforgiving steel.
Caleb tensed, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts. The pain was unbearable, but he wouldn’t break.
The man leaned in, his voice a whisper against Caleb’s ear. "You’re strong. I’ll give you that. But everyone breaks eventually."
Caleb let out a slow breath, forcing himself to focus on anything other than the pain. The damp chill of the room. The distant sound of water dripping. The weight of Luca’s stare burning into the side of his face.
The man exhaled through his nose, irritation creeping into his features. He released the pliers, the reprieve lasting only a second before he reached for something else. A soft whoosh filled the silence as a flame flared to life.
The blowtorch.
Heat radiated from it, even at a distance. Caleb swallowed against the nausea rolling in his stomach. The flame danced, hungry and eager, licking at the air as the man brought it closer.
"Last chance," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "Who else knows?"
Caleb said nothing. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
The flame inched forward, the heat intensifying. His skin prickled, the sensation crawling up his arm, threatening worse. His breath hitched, but still, he held firm.
Beside him, Luca’s breathing was uneven, his chains rattling as he shifted. "Caleb," he said, voice raw. "Caleb, don’t..."
The man turned, his gaze locking onto Luca with a predatory gleam. "I told you," he said, voice thick with promise. "You’ll get your turn."
Caleb’s stomach twisted. His heartbeat pounded against his ribs, not from fear for himself, but for Luca. He couldn’t let them turn their attention to him. He couldn’t...
The door slammed open. The sound ricocheted through the room, freezing the scene in place.
A voice barked from the hallway, sharp, commanding. The man with the blowtorch hesitated, irritation flashing across his face before he exhaled and stepped back. The flame flickered out with a soft hiss.
Caleb’s body sagged against the chains, the adrenaline crash hitting him hard. His skin burned, his fingers throbbed, and exhaustion curled around the edges of his consciousness. He didn’t know how much more he could take.
But he knew one thing:
He wasn’t going to break.
The man cast one last, unreadable look at him before turning on his heel. "This isn’t over."
Then he was gone, leaving only the echo of his words and the sharp scent of singed air behind him.
The door slammed shut, sealing them in the stifling, windowless room. The air was thick with the acrid scent of blood, and Caleb's breathing came in ragged, uneven gasps. His body trembled; muscles locked in the lingering agony of what had just been done to him. Sweat and blood mixed on his skin, the sharp sting of his wounds a constant reminder that this was far from over.
Across from him, Luca sat stiffly in his chair, his chains rattling as he shifted. His gaze burned into Caleb, his expression unreadable in the dim, flickering light. For a long moment, neither of them spoke, the only sounds in the room their shallow, uneven breaths and the faint drip of water from somewhere unseen.
Then, finally, Luca exhaled sharply and shook his head. "You're an idiot," he muttered, his voice rough but threaded with something Caleb couldn’t quite decipher. "You know that, right?"
Caleb didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His jaw was clenched so tight it ached, his mind still spiraling in the aftermath. Every nerve in his body screamed, but he refused to let it show. He refused to let Luca, let anyone, see how close he’d come to breaking.
Luca made a low sound, something between frustration and reluctant admiration. "Christ, Smith," he murmured, shaking his head again. "What the hell have you gotten yourself into?"