38. Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Reaper
The smell in the room is dust, sweat and old wood. Noah sits on the edge of the mattress, eyes shadowed, hands loose on his knees like he’s trying to look relaxed. It doesn’t work. Torque is standing behind me, pacing small, tight circles, his frustration loud in every breath.
“You’ve been dark for eight days,” I say. “You were supposed to check in every forty-eight hours. Tell me why.”
He shakes his head. “Comms went down. You know how it is out there.”
“Don’t insult me.” My voice comes out too calm. “We traced a relay from your old access codes to Sebastian’s network. You want to try again?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I drag a chair across the floor and sit opposite him. “Start talking,” I say. “Now.”
He laughs, quiet and humorless. “You always did like the straight line, Reaper. No warm-up, no small talk.”
Torque’s voice is low. “We’re done playing patiently. You’ve got one chance to tell us why Sebastian’s been getting intel from you.”
Noah looks up at me then, eyes cold, hollow, and somewhere under it all, hurt. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“Enlighten me.”
He smirks, “You all think he bought me. Money, leverage, blackmail. It’s none of that. It’s simpler.”
Torque tenses. “Then say it.”
Noah leans back, shoulders hitting the wall. “Wrenley.”
Her name lands heavy in the air. I feel the word more than hear it.
He keeps going, tone sharp, like every syllable’s a blade he’s been saving.
“She broke me in ways Sebastian never could. I tried to move on, I really did. But then I saw her again—at his penthouse. Max’s.
The woman who said I was too dangerous, too unsteady, sitting there like she’s found some religion in his damn smile. ”
Torque mutters something under his breath, he moves fast punching Noah in the mouth.
Noah’s grin turns bitter with blood in his teeth.
“You don’t get it, do you? You all ruined me.
She made me believe I could belong somewhere other than a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, and when she walked away, all that was left was the wreck.
So yeah, I helped Sebastian. Fed him what he needed.
Let him burn down the world she built. Maybe now she’ll know what it feels like to lose everything she thought was safe. ”
The words sit between us, heavy as smoke. Torque moves before I can, clenching his fist and striking Noah again and again, stringing together curses that would make the devil think twice.
“Enough.” I say quietly.
Noah’s smile fades, replaced by something almost empty. “What now, Reaper? Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” I answer simply. “You’re going to live long enough to see what you’ve done.”
Torque hauls him to his feet, dragging him toward the door. He doesn’t fight. He just laughs under his breath. The sound of someone too broken to care who wins.
We pull into the mansion just as the sky starts to turn molten. Hugo’s already outside, tail flicking, waiting like he knows what’s coming. Torque shoves Noah out of the car, the man stumbling but not resisting.
“Sit,” Torque growls, pointing to the steps. Noah does. Elbows on his knees, head tipped down, expression unreadable. Hugo pads over, sniffs once, then sits beside him, tail twitching like he can sense the rot but doesn’t know what to do with it.
I lean against the railing, watching. My chest feels too tight. Not from anger anymore, but from the cold fact of what betrayal really looks like.
Torque’s voice is quiet. “You want to tell her?”
“No,” I say. “He will. Take him inside.”
Torque nods, hauling Noah to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
I sit on the steps with Hugo and wait for Wrenley to return. Contemplating what all this means for not only us but for Wrenley.
It's not long before headlights sweep up the driveway. Tires crunching on gravel. I already know who it is before the door opens. Wrenley climbs out of the car, Wrecker steps around, and pulls a sleeping Daisy out of the back. She spots me and practically ignores Hugo, bounding toward her.
Wrenley hits me at full force, arms around my neck, body trembling, the kind of hug that says more than words ever could. For a second, everything stops. The night air, the noise in my head, the weight of what’s waiting behind me. All I can feel is her.
When she finally pulls back, she reaches up, palms warm against my jaw. “I was so worried,” she says, voice soft and frayed at the edges.
I cover her hands with mine, grounding both of us. “We were perfectly safe,” I tell her. “But there’s someone inside that needs to be dealt with.”
Her expression changes, just a flicker, but I see it. That instinctive shift from relief to readiness. The leader replacing the woman who almost fell apart.
She exhales through her nose, nodding once. “Okay. Let us get Daisy settled first.”
I glance toward Wrecker who’s carrying Daisy up the driveway, the kid half asleep, her head resting on his shoulder. She looks small, safe in a way I know won’t last long.
“Is she okay?” I ask quietly.
Wrenley follows my gaze, a faint smile ghosting across her face. “Yeah. I think so. We’ll talk to her in the morning—see what really happened.”
“Good.”
She brushes her thumb along my cheek, then lets her hand fall.
The exhaustion in her eyes mirrors mine.
She turns back toward Wrecker and Daisy, her voice dropping into that soft, protective tone she only uses when she’s holding the world together.
“Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed. ”
I watch them disappear through the doorway, Wrecker close behind her, Daisy half leaning against his chest.
The night settles again, heavy and still.
Behind me, Torque comes out with Hugo following, his ears twitching, tail flicking against the stone.
It should feel like a victory. It doesn’t.
Inside, I can hear Wrenley’s voice somewhere down the hall, quiet, gentle, safe.
I hold onto that for a heartbeat before turning back toward Hugo.
“Well,” I tell him. “We’re not finished.”
The front doors groans shut behind us. The house smells like Wrenley’s latest painting, her perfume, and the faint trace of rain that followed us back.
Torque walks beside me, Hugo padding between us, head low, like even he can sense what’s coming.
Noah’s in the war room under Riot’s watch, wrists zip-tied, still bleeding from the cut on his brow.
I can feel the weight of him through the walls.
We stop at the base of the stairs. I can hear Wrenley above, her voice low, Daisy’s lighter in response.
It’s a small, fragile sound that shouldn’t belong in this house.
The others start to gather, Elias and Margot first, followed by Doc coming down the stairs.
Max is the last to enter, half-buttoned shirt, tension radiating from every inch of him.
He looks from me to Torque. “Alright,” he says. “What’s going on?”
I take a breath that tastes like rust. “We found Noah.”
That gets everyone’s attention.
“Where?” Max asks.
“An abandoned house near Wrenley’s old neighborhood,” I say. “He’s been working with Sebastian. Feeding him intel.”
Max goes still, the kind of still that means danger. “You’re sure?”
Torque answers before I can. “He admitted it.”
The sound that comes out of Max isn’t a word. It’s more like the first growl of a storm. He moves before I can stop him, heading straight for the hall that leads to the war room. Torque and I step in at the same time, each grabbing an arm.
“Let me go,” Max snarls, muscles coiled tight.
“You go in there like this,” I say through gritted teeth. “And we’ll lose the only chance we have at getting more out of him.”
“He betrayed us. He betrayed her.”
“I know.” My voice cracks just enough for him to hear the truth in it. “But she doesn’t know yet.”
That’s when she appears. Wrenley and Wrecker descend the stairs, she’s barefoot, hair pulled back, wearing that old ratty college shirt that hangs loose off one shoulder. The look in her eyes is clear even from here. She’s already guessed, reading the room in an instant.
“What’s going on?”
Her voice is calm, but I know that calm. It’s the kind that comes right before she detonates.
I glance at Max. Neither of us wants to say it. Not this.
“We found Noah,” I finally tell her. “He’s here. He’s been working with Sebastian.”
She goes still. The shift is subtle but absolute, her posture turning rigid, her expression flattening into that quiet, lethal focus that makes even the bravest men hesitate.
“Where is he?”
“Wren—” Max starts, but she cuts him off.
“Where. Is. He?”
We share a look, the same one we shared when she wanted to finish Tiffany. The same unspoken fear. Not that she can’t handle it. That she’ll handle it too well. That she’ll become the thing she’s trying not to be.
Torque clears his throat, unable to take the silence. “He’s in the war room. With Riot.”
I close my eyes for half a second. “Jesus, Torque.”
He only shrugs.
Wrenley doesn’t wait. She pushes past him, shoulder checking Elias on her way to the hall. Her bare feet slap against the floor, her hair swinging with each step.
“Wrenley,” I call, following. “Little warrior, wait—”
She spins, with fire in her eyes. “NO!”
The sound cracks through the hallway, raw and furious.
“This isn’t happening again! You don’t get to protect me from this, Liam. Not this. He is one of us. Or was one of us. He’s the reason Sebastian’s inside our walls, and I’m not going to sit here and let someone else clean up that mess. I will get the answers we need.”
“Sparrow—” Max’s voice softens, pleading. “You don’t need to carry it.”
She turns on him, shaking her head. “I’ve carried worse. I shot my own mother. In case anyone here forgot.”
There’s no more argument after that. She turns and stalks down the hallway, every step a promise. Max and I share a look, but I already know how this ends. There’s no stopping her once she decides something belongs to her, not vengeance, not truth, not even pain.
I mutter under my breath to Max. “Think this will break her?”
“No,” he says quietly, already following her. “It’ll just remind her and us that she’s never needed saving.”
The sound of the war room door slamming open hits like thunder. We walk into it right behind her. Noah sits in the metal chair at the center of the room, wrists zip-tied, a strip of blood cutting through his eyebrow. The energy shifts the second he locks eyes with her.
The war room starts to feel smaller as everyone files in.
Too many people, too much heat, not enough air.
Riot stands off to his right, arms folded, eyes flat and watchful.
Torque leans against the wall, pretending to be calm.
Nobody is fooled. Everyone else takes up spots behind Wrenley, watching and waiting for what she does next.
Wrenley doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t even look at me or Max.
She just walks across the room, the soft drag of the chair legs screeching against the floor as she pulls one forward and drops into it, right in front of him.
The scrape echoes like a blade drawn from its sheath.
She sits there for a beat, elbows on her knees, eyes on Noah. Not speaking. Just looking.
Max and I move almost in sync, stepping forward until we’re a single line behind her, flanking her chair like shadows. Neither of us says a word.
Noah lifts his head. His gaze sweeps the room, Riot, Torque, Wrecker, Elias, Margot, before settling on the two of us. I can see the flicker of nerves when he realizes just how close we are. Then his eyes find Wrenley’s.
Everything else falls away. She doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe. Just studies him like she’s dissecting the lie beneath his skin. He tries for arrogance, but it dies halfway to his mouth. There’s something hollow behind his eyes now. Anger curdled into regret, resentment twisted into fear.
The silence stretches, heavy and unbearable. Hugo sits near the door, head on his paws, tail flicking once. Even he’s waiting. Wrenley leans back slightly in the chair, tilting her head just enough to break the stillness. Though she hasn’t spoken yet, the message is clear.
You start talking, or I start breaking things.
The air vibrates with it, that quiet, lethal promise only she can make sound like poetry. Beside me, Max doesn’t move. He’s watching her the same way I am, not with fear, but with something darker. Pride. Awe. The kind of reverence reserved for things too wild to cage.
Because she’s not soft. Not something that needs saving. She’s the storm we built, the blade we sharpened without meaning to. I’ll be damned if we ever stop her.