Chapter 25
MICAH
Dad walked off across the yard, phone already pressed to his ear, his posture tight in a way that said the conversation he was about to have wasn't going to be easy.
I watched him go, every instinct telling me to follow, to listen, to know what the hell we were dealing with.
But I stayed.
Because Joy was still standing beside me, her hand warm in mine, and her family was watching us like we were some kind of test they hadn't studied for.
My brothers dispersed naturally—Ethan to the perimeter, Lucas toward the barn, Gideon scanning the tree line. They didn't need orders. They just moved.
It gave me something to focus on besides the fact that Victoria had come here. To Joy's family. To this place that had nothing to do with any of us except that Joy loved it.
That made it personal in a way I couldn't compartmentalize.
When Dad finally returned, his expression was subdued. Not defeated—Byron Dane didn't do defeated—but worn in a way that aged him years in the span of thirty minutes.
We all gathered near the porch, waiting.
He exhaled slowly. "The good news is, The Vanguard is willing to listen."
"And the bad news?" Jacob asked.
"They won't get involved."
I felt my jaw tighten. "Why not?"
Dad's mouth twisted. "That's The Vanguard's way. They like to watch. They enjoy it when they don't have to lift a finger. Violence is beneath them—or so they claim. But they've shed plenty of blood along the way. They just prefer to keep their hands clean while someone else does the bleeding."
The disgust in his voice was unmistakable.
Before anyone could respond, his phone rang.
Dad looked at the screen, and something in his face went cold.
"It's her," he said.
Victoria.
He answered, putting it on speaker without preamble. "Victoria."
Her voice came through clear, smooth, unbothered. "Byron. I assume your sons are listening?"
Dad's eyes flicked to us. "They are."
"Good." A pause. "I want a meeting."
"Where?"
"Deveaux Bank. Just off Kiawah Island. Midnight."
My stomach dropped.
I’d heard of Deveaux Bank. It was isolated. Remote. A sandbar that disappeared at high tide, surrounded by water and marsh with no cover, no escape routes unless you had a boat.
It was a kill box.
"This sounds like a trap," Dad said flatly.
Victoria's laugh was soft, almost amused. "If I'd wanted to kill you all, I could have done it before. I could have done it today. But I didn't."
"Why not?"
"Because I'm reasonable," she said. "And because I want this resolved with as little mess as possible."
Dad's hand tightened on the phone. "What are your terms?"
"Simple," Victoria said. "You. Micah. And Joy."
Every muscle in my body locked.
"No," Dad said immediately. "Absolutely not."
"Then we have nothing to discuss," Victoria replied, her tone unchanged. "Those are my terms. The three of you. No one else. Midnight. Deveaux Bank."
I felt Joy stiffen beside me, but she didn't speak.
Dad's gaze cut to her, then to me. "Joy doesn't need to be there."
"She does," Victoria said. "Or there's no meeting."
My hands curled into fists. "Why?"
"Because," Victoria said pleasantly, "she's the only reason I'm offering this at all."
That landed like a knife between my ribs.
Joy's fingers tightened on mine, grounding me before I could say something I'd regret.
Dad's jaw worked. "Fine. Just a chat."
"Just a chat," Victoria agreed. "And all this can be over. Water under the bridge."
She paused, and when she spoke again, there was something almost kind in her voice—which made it worse.
"I have nothing against the McKinleys, you know. They seem like good people. So, why don't you all head back to Dominion Hall, let those nice folks tend to their flowers, and we'll settle this like adults."
The fact that she knew about Joy's family—knew their names, knew what they did, knew enough to mention it casually like a threat wrapped in silk—made my skin crawl.
The call ended.
Silence settled heavy over the yard.
Dad pocketed his phone, his expression unreadable. "I'll go alone."
"No," Joy said immediately.
Everyone turned to look at her.
She stepped forward, chin up, eyes fierce. "No way. I'm going. And so is Micah."
Her hand gripped mine hard, punctuating the point.
Dad opened his mouth to argue.
Joy cut him off. "This isn't negotiable. She asked for me, specifically. If I don't go, there's no meeting. And if there's no meeting, she'll just keep coming. For me. For my family. For all of us."
She looked at me then, and I saw it—the fear, yes, but also the resolve.
"I'm going," she said again.
I wanted to argue. Wanted to lock her in a room somewhere safe and deal with Victoria myself.
But I knew that look.
She'd already decided.
"Okay," Dad said finally, voice heavy. "For now, let's go home."
The goodbyes were quick.
Joy's momma pulled her into a tight hug, whispering something I couldn't hear. Her daddy shook my hand, his grip firm, his eyes measuring.
"You bring her back," he said quietly.
"I will," I promised.
Sunny pressed his nose into Joy's palm one last time before we boarded the helicopter, and I saw her blink hard against tears she wouldn't let fall.
The flight back to Dominion Hall was quiet.
No one spoke. No one joked. We just sat there in the leather seats with the city sprawling below us, each of us lost in our own thoughts.
I kept replaying Victoria's voice. The way she'd said Joy's name. The casual mention of the McKinleys.
She knew too much.
And that meant we were already playing catch-up.
When we landed at Dominion Hall, Silas was waiting on the lawn, arms folded, expression grim.
"Everyone's on standby," he said as we disembarked. "I've already sent men to the McKinley farm. They'll keep watch. Make sure no one gets close."
Joy exhaled, relief flickering across her face. "Thank you."
Silas nodded. "No need. But maybe you should all get some rest. It's going to be a long night."
He turned to me. "Your suite is ready."
I frowned. "What suite?"
"You're part of the family," Silas said simply. "Everyone has a suite."
Something in my chest tightened at that.
Family.
I'd spent fifteen years thinking I didn't have one, anymore. That the only brothers I had were scattered across the globe, that home was a concept I'd outgrown.
And now here I was, standing on the lawn of a mansion built by a father I'd thought was dead, surrounded by brothers, being told I had a suite.
It didn't compute.
But I nodded anyway.
Everyone split off—Caleb, Ethan and Lucas heading upstairs, Gideon and Levi disappearing down a hallway I didn't recognize.
Silas led us through the mansion, down a corridor lined with dark wood paneling and soft lighting, until we reached a door at the end.
"This is the Montana wing," Silas said. "Your brothers are all here. You're the last one."
He opened the door.
The suite was spartan but beautifully crafted. A large bed with crisp white linens. A desk by the window. A closet already stocked with clothes in my size. Everything clean, minimal, functional. It was huge.
Somehow, it felt like home.
"The kitchen's open if you want anything," Silas added. "Otherwise, I'll see you both tonight."
He closed the door behind him, leaving Joy and me alone.
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Joy turned to me, her expression uncertain. "What now?"
I looked at her—standing in the middle of my suite, her hair still windblown from the helicopter, her eyes dark and searching.
And I felt it again.
That pull. That hunger. That desperate need to drown out the noise in my head with the one thing that had ever worked.
Her.
Ever since she'd grabbed my hand and said she was coming with me to meet Victoria—ever since she'd stood in front of her family and chosen me in a way that left no room for doubt—I'd been fighting the urge to take her somewhere private and remind her exactly what that choice meant.
Now we were alone.
And I was done fighting.
I turned to face her fully, my voice low and controlled. "Take off your clothes."
Her eyes widened slightly. "What?"
"You asked what's now," I said, stepping closer. "That's what's now."
Her breath hitched, but she didn't move.
I closed the distance between us, my hand sliding to her hip, thumb brushing the bare skin where her shirt had ridden up.
"You scared the hell out of me today," I said quietly. "You called me. Told me Victoria had been to your family's home. And all I could think about was getting to you. Making sure you were safe."
Her eyes searched mine. "Micah—"
"And then you stood there," I continued, "in front of everyone, and said you were coming with me. To meet a woman who killed my mother. A woman who threatened your family."
My hand tightened on her hip.
"Do you have any idea what that did to me?"
She swallowed. "I had to."
"I know," I said. "And I hate it. I hate that you're in danger because of me. I hate that she knows your name. I hate that I can't lock you somewhere safe and deal with this myself."
My forehead dropped to hers.
"But more than that," I murmured, "I'm so fucking proud of you I can barely stand it."
Her hands came up to my chest, fingers curling into my shirt.
"Micah," she whispered.
"So, yes," I said, pulling back just enough to meet her eyes. "Take off your clothes. Because I need you. Right now. Before we walk into whatever hell is waiting for us at midnight."
Her pupils dilated, and I saw the moment she decided.
She reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head in one smooth motion.