36. Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Six
Reaper
The room is silent when she breaks the seal. The wax cracks, sharp as a gunshot. The paper unfolds in her hands, heavy cream cardstock, Sebastian’s kind of luxury, taunting by design. Wrenley stares at it a moment too long before she starts to read.
Sister,
Every queen feeds her throne with blood, but you forgot that it isn’t yours anymore.
The serpent eats what it loves to become what it fears.
When it’s finished, I’ll be waiting where it ends.
--S.
The words hang in the air like smoke, faintly sweet and toxic all the same.
Torque breaks first. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Riot leans forward, elbows braced on his knees. “The serpent eats what it loves… is he talking about us?”
Elias doesn’t look up from his laptop balanced on his thighs. “No—he’s referencing something. The Serpent thing—it’s not us. I’ve seen that phrasing before in the doctor’s files.”
That pulls Wrenley’s attention. “Which files?”
“The psych evaluations Doc was able to pull,” Elias says. “He wrote about the serpent as a concept, saying it represents ‘consumption and renewal through destruction.’ Basically, taking what isn’t his and making it his own. A new order built from what he devours.”
Wrecker frowns. “So… he’s saying what? He’s starting over?”
“He’s saying he’s building something,” Elias answers. “And he’s using you as the blueprint.”
Wrenley exhales slowly, still staring at the letter. “The House of Silk burned to the ground. Every brick. He’s not rebuilding that.”
“Then what’s he talking about?” Torque asks.
She’s quiet for a long beat. Her thumb drags along the edge of the paper, the motion small and controlled.
When she finally speaks, her voice is low.
“He’s taking from me. Everything I built.
Everything that’s mine. The people, the network—he’s remaking it in his own image.
That’s what he means by the serpent eating what it loves. ”
Max mutters a curse under his breath. “Degenerate asshole.”
Riot leans back, shaking his head. “And the last line? Where it ends?”
Her eyes lift to mine then, sharp, haunted. “My childhood home.”
The room goes still.
Torque straightens. “How can you be sure?”
“Because he’s never mentioned it before,” she says quietly. “Not once. The doctors wrote that his earliest fixation started there. He’s trying to rewrite the story, start at the beginning and finish it his way.”
Elias nods, scrolling through his files. “She’s right. In one of his session notes, he wrote: 'The beginning and the end are the same place; it’s where I learned what belonging costs.’ That matches perfectly with the phrasing in this note.”
I can feel the tension in the room shift. The reality sets in, this isn’t random. This is him drawing a map.
Wrenley folds the paper with slow precision and sets it on the coffee table. “He’s saying, Come find me.”
Her tone is steady, but I can hear the pulse of fear beneath it, not for herself, but for what it means.
I meet her eyes. “Then we will.”
She nods once. “Together.”
“Always.”
The word feels like steel between my teeth.
The rest of the room starts moving, Riot asking Elias to pinpoint the address.
Torque is already muttering about logistics, but all I can see is the look on her face.
The calm before the kind of storm that only she can start.
He wants her to come find him. He’s going to regret that.
Wrenley stands, silent as a fuse just before it burns down. The note sits on the table in front of her, folded neat, the wax seal broken and bleeding red into the paper. She moves toward the far wall, slow and deliberate, that dangerous kind of quiet that means she’s gone somewhere inside herself.
Her hand drifts down to her hip, fingers brushing the thin line of scar tissue where Sebastian’s teeth tore into her flesh after the crash. I see the flicker of a memory cross her face, pain, defiance, something darker, before she shakes her head and turns away.
Max’s voice breaks the silence. “I’ve got this one.”
I give a single nod. “Go.”
He’s already moving, following her up the stairs, the sound of his boots fading into the hall.
The rest of us stay still until the quiet becomes too heavy.
I glance at Margot, who’s still standing near Elias’ laptop, arms folded tight across her chest. She catches my look, frowns, but doesn’t protest when I tilt my head toward the hall.
We end up in the war room, that cold, humming space that smells like gun oil and sleepless nights. The table is buried under maps and open files, photographs of faces we’ve lost or might lose next. I pull one of the chairs out and drop into it, rubbing a hand across my jaw.
Margot crosses her arms. “You look like hell.”
“I feel worse,” I admit. “I need to ask you about a few of the guys.”
That gets her attention. “Which ones?”
“Noah, Kellan, Ruiz, and Dax.”
She pushes off the table, moving toward the monitors. “They’re all running separate work right now. Nothing unusual about that.”
“I know,” I say. “I’m not worried about the work. I’m worried about the silence.”
She hums as her fingers fly over the keyboard. “Kellan checked in 3 days ago. Ruiz dropped a data pack yesterday. Dax pinged late last night.” She pauses. “Noah’s the only one still dark.”
There it is. “How long?” I ask.
“Eight days ago,” She says. “Right after we got back from the farm.”
“Eight days. What’s his last known.”
She’s typing faster now. “He was finishing a recon job near the north corridor. Supposed to swing by the coast after.” She taps the screen, bringing up a map. “That’s where the trail stops. No logout, no handoff. Just… gone.”
“You know him better than me, would he kill his signal on purpose?”
Margot exhales, leaning one hand against the table. “Noah’s a lot of things, but sloppy isn’t one of them. If he broke the pattern, it wasn’t by choice.” She hesitates, then quietly almost to herself, “He wouldn’t walk away from the people he protects…”
I glance up. “You mean her.”
Margot nods. “They were close once. He doesn’t talk about it anymore, but you know what it’s like to be loved by her.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “I know exactly how she loves.” I feel the corner of my mouth tugging up. For a moment, the only sound is the hum of the servers and the faint buzz of a light overhead.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees. “So if he hasn’t checked in for this long…”
Margot finishes it for me. “He’s either dead—or he’s being used.”
“Neither option sits right.”
Margot’s jaw tightens. “You think he’s compromised?”
“I think Noah’s the kind of man Sebastian would want on the inside… if he could turn him.”
She shakes her head immediately. “Noah wouldn’t flip his loyalty. Not to him.”
“Wouldn’t or couldn’t?” I ask.
Her glare sharpens as she narrows her eyes at me. “You didn’t see the way he loved her. He barely survived when she dumped him. But he wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.”
I plant my hands on the edge of the table, staring down at the scattered files. “Then where the hell is he?” It comes out sharper than I mean to.
Margot doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes drift to one of the maps, the same route Noah was supposed to scout last week. The line cuts dangerously close to the area near Wrenley’s childhood home.
When she finally speaks, her voice is barely a whisper. “He might already be there.”
I look up. “You mean—”
She nods once. “If Sebastian’s rebuilding from the ashes, he’s starting with someone who knows how we operate. Someone we trust.”
The realization hits like a cold blade to my gut. “Then Noah’s not missing,” I say. “He’s not ours anymore.”
Margot’s lips press into a thin line. Letting her silence speak more than her words ever could. She’s still staring at the map when I straighten.
“Keep this between us,” I tell her. “I’ll take Torque and check it out myself before we loop everyone in.”
She nods once, the kind of slow, measured agreement that means she doesn't like it but knows better than to argue. “Be careful, Reaper.”
“Always.”
She watches me leave, arms folded tight, eyes tracking me until I’m out of sight. I move through the mansion fast. The place feels too quiet, like the walls are waiting for something. Torque’s in the living room, cleaning his rifle. He looks up when I pass.
“We’re leaving in fifteen minutes,” I say.
He opens his mouth to ask, but I’m already gone. Upstairs, the hall is dim, morning light leaking in through half-closed blinds. I stop outside the bedroom door and take a breath before pushing it open.
They’re both sitting on the foot of the bed. Wrenley’s head rests on Max’s shoulder, his arm wrapped loosely around her waist. She looks small for once, peaceful maybe, but her eyes find me as soon as I step in. She smiles, soft and tired.
“Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I answer. “I’m heading out with Torque. Just a quick recon run.”
Her posture changes in a heartbeat. “Recon? Where? I can come.”
I shake my head, crossing the room. “Not this time, little warrior. It’s nothing serious, we’re not even getting out of the car, just a drive-by.”
She frowns, glancing at Max before turning those sharp eyes back to me. “You two are keeping a secret. I let it go before, but now you’re going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Max exhales, the sound equal parts resignation and respect. He looks at me, I nod. No more hiding.
“You’re right,” Max says. “We don’t think Tiffany was working alone. We think someone else inside the Serpents was helping her—and might still be helping Sebastian.”
Wrenley blinks, processing, jaw tightening. “Who?”
I clear my throat. “We might have a lead.”
She straightens. “A lead?”
“We haven’t heard from Noah in eight days.” I say meeting her eyes.
Her laugh is small, humorless. “Noah? He would never.”
I step closer, crouching in front of her resting my hand on her knee. “I hope you’re right. But he’s either compromised… or captured. That’s what Torque and I are going to find out.”
She’s already standing before I finish. “Then I’m definitely coming with you.”
Her tone leaves no room for debate. The calm is gone, replaced by that spark I know too well, the one that means she’s already decided and she’ll burn through anyone who tells her no.
I meet Max’s eyes over her shoulder. He shakes his head slightly, the message clear: don’t fight her here. But this time, I have to.
Her words hang in the air like a trigger half-pulled. I’m coming with you.
I take a step closer, my voice low. “No. You’re not.”
Her head tilts, eyes narrowing. “Excuse me?”
“It’s recon, Little warrior. That’s it.”
“You don’t get to decide that alone.”
Max shifts beside her, careful, watching the fuse burn shorter by the second.
“Wrenley,” I start, keeping my tone level, “This isn’t the move for you.”
She laughs, sharp and disbelieving. “Wow. That’s new. Since when do I sit things out?”
I drag a hand through my hair, exhaling hard. “Since this turned into something we don't understand yet. If Sebastian has Noah, this could be a setup. You walk into that blind—.”
“Or maybe he wins when you walk straight into it without backup.”
Her words land hard. She steps closer, chin up, that spark in her eyes flaring to life. “You promised we’d do this together, Liam. You said always.”
“I meant it.” My voice drops to a rasp. “And that’s exactly why I’m asking you to stay.”
She opens her mouth to argue again, but I reach out and catch her chin, firm, grounding.
“Please, Wren. I can’t split my focus in there,” I add, quieter.
“Not with him in play. Not when I don’t know what we’re walking into.
If something happens to you because I was watching the wrong angle for half a second—”
I shake my head, trying to clear the thought. “—I don’t recover from that.”
That’s the truth. Raw and ugly. She opens her mouth to argue again “Please, Wrenley. Do this for me.”
She looks at me for a long minute, then lets out a sharp breath. “Fine. But you come back with answers. No hero shit.”
I nod. “Deal.”
Her jaw works, stubborn as ever. “And Liam—if you’re not back in three hours. I’m coming after you. I won’t move until then, but I will come after you and nothing will stop me.”
I smile at her. “Wouldn’t expect anything less, little warrior.”
Fifteen minutes later, Torque and I are in the SUV, the hum of the engine filling the silence between us. As we get farther from the center of the city, the pavement becomes rough and broken as the houses thin out into fields and memory.
I glance at the quiet yards, the hedges trimmed back, mailboxes showing their age but still standing. A few old toys sit tucked near porches, sun-faded and outgrown. Whatever life she had here, it didn’t disappear, it settled. The kind of quiet that feels contained, not empty, settles over us.
Torque checks the map again, finger tracing the screen. “The last ping from Noah’s phone was right about—there.” He points to a small cul-de-sac near the edge of the block.
That’s when I see it. A familiar dark SUV parked half in the shadows, dust coating the windshield, one headlight cracked. “There,” I say, pulling over a few houses down.
Torque squints. “That’s his ride.”
“Yeah.”
We move quietly. No words. Just muscle memory and the kind of silence that keeps you alive. The house looks empty, curtains drawn, no lights. Torque circles wide while I check the back. The door shifts under a little pressure. Locked, but old. I work the latch with my blade until it clicks open.
Inside, the air’s stale. The faint smell of dust, old wood, and something that used to be food. We clear the rooms one by one, the living room, kitchen, hallway, until we reach the back bedroom. Torque gestures with two fingers. One occupant. Asleep. We step in silently, weapons drawn.
Noah’s there, sprawled across a stained mattress, half-dressed, gun holstered on the nightstand within reach. He’s thinner than I remember, face rougher, eyes sunken even in sleep. For a second, I almost don’t recognize him.
I kick the edge of the mattress with my boot. “Rise and shine.”
He jerks awake, hand already reaching for the weapon.
Torque’s voice cuts through the dark. “No, no, no—we’re not going to do that.”
Noah freezes, hand hovering inches from the grip. His eyes flick between us, two guns aimed steadily at his chest, and the realization dawns.
“Jesus Christ,” he mutters, voice rough from sleep. “You two look like hell.”
I lower my gun half an inch, just enough to breathe. “Funny. I was about to say the same thing about you.”