49. Chapter Forty-Nine
Chapter Forty-Nine
Wrenley
The war room feels colder than it should. Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s the hollow, echoing ache in my ribs that hasn’t gone away since the moment I woke up and he wasn’t there.
Everyone is already gathered when Max and I step inside.
Torque leaning over the table, hands braced on either side of the blueprints.
Riot pacing behind him like a caged animal.
Elias and Margot hunched over the monitors, fingers flying across the keyboards.
Wrecker sits on the arm of a chair, jaw tight, Daisy perched beside him with Hugo’s head in her lap.
Doc stands behind the group, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
They all look up when I enter. The air shifts. Not with pity, no one in this room has dared to pity me, but with something like grim solidarity. Max stays close to my side, a silent shield.
Torque is the first to speak. “You good?” he asks, voice low, steady.
“No,” I say honestly. “But I’m here.”
He nods once. It’s enough.
Margot gestures toward the screens. “We’ve pulled everything Liam left behind. He scrubbed most digital footprints, but he wasn’t good enough to hide them all.”
Elias swivels in his chair, exhaustion carved into the lines under his eyes. “He cut out the tracker, but we got a short burst of movement data before that. One last ping on the east side of town before it came back here and went dark.”
Riot stops pacing. “Factory district. Abandoned for years. Tons of places to hide someone. Tons of places to… do other things. “
A muscle jumps in Max’s jaw. My fingers curl around the table edge to keep them steady. “What else?”
Margot taps her keyboard. “We found a paper trail. Small things, but they add up. Purchases under fake names, bulk lumber, fabric, paint, furniture, metalwork supplies. The kind used to build something specific.”
A sick twist moves through my stomach. “Build what?” I ask.
Elias clicks a few keys and an image fills the main screen, a rough layout of a massive warehouse. Rooms. Partitions. False walls. Soundproofed sections. Max swears under his breath. Torque mutters something that sounds like a threat to someone’s ancestors.
Riot’s voice breaks the silence. “That bastard built a maze.”
I swallow hard. “For what purpose? What does it lead to?”
Margot’s expression goes dark as she clicks again.
A smaller file opens, unencrypted, unhidden, almost like he wanted us to find it.
A photo loads. My blood stops moving. It’s my childhood bedroom.
Perfectly recreated. Same quilt pattern.
Same chipped dresser. Same stuffed fox I loved until the seams frayed.
My breath catches, shallow and sharp. Max’s hand finds mine beneath the table.
Elias says quietly. “This was uploaded two days ago. Sebastian’s taunt. He built this for you.”
Everyone looks at me. I keep my voice steady by force alone. “So he wants me back in that room,” I say. “He wants me cornered. Frail little Wrenley again.”
Riot’s fists clench. “Over my dead body.”
Torque’s glare could split stones. “He wants a reenactment of something.”
I nod once. “He wants control.”
Max’s voice is low, rough. “He wants you.”
Doc breaks the silence. “This wasn’t made overnight. He’s been building toward this for months or years.”
A hum fills my skull, the beginning of rage, quiet and precise. “What about Liam?” I ask.
Wrecker shifts. “We tracked fresh tire marks near the factory district. Could be him. Could be Sebastian’s men.”
Margot adds, “We also found blood on a piece of metal outside one building.”
My pulse stutters.
Max begins. “Sparrow—”
“No,” I cut in sharply. “Tell me.”
Elias looks directly at me. “We don’t know if it’s his.”
My jaw locks.
“But the pattern,” Elias continues softly, “Suggests if it was his, he was moved while unconscious.”
The room goes silent. Hugo walks to me and whines at my feet. I take a slow breath, sharp, steady, careful. It still feels like swallowing glass.
“So we have a general area.” I say. “A timeline. And enough evidence to confirm Sebastian’s building a stage for something.”
Torque snorts. “Yeah. A performance we’re not letting happen.”
Max squeezes my hand under the table, grounding me again. “We’re going after him. But we need a full plan.”
I straighten, spine rigid. “I’m going.” I say. No one argues. Not one person. Even Doc just nods.
Riot mutters, “We’d never stop you anyway.”
Margot gives me a tight smile. “Good. Because we need our queen angry.”
A trace of something sharp and violent settles beneath my ribs. Not panic. Not collapse. Purpose. This isn’t panic-attack Wrenley. This isn’t dissociating Wrenley. This is burn-it-down Wrenley. Everyone in the room feels it.
Max leans in, his shoulder brushing mine. “You ready?”
I lift my chin. “No,” I whisper. “But I’m going anyway.”
The war room breaks into motion the moment the plan takes shape. Torque and Riot head straight for the armory. Wrecker makes a call. Elias is pulling blueprints and satellite overlays up on every screen. Margot’s already prepping comms.
Max stays glued to my side, shadowing me without hovering. I make it halfway down the hall toward the armory when a small voice pipes up behind me.
“Wrenley?”
I turn. Daisy stands in the war room doorway, arms wrapped around herself, looking smaller than she did even the night Wrecker pulled her out of that hell. Her eyes are too wide. Too knowing. “Are you guys going after him?”
I take a slow breath. “Yes.”
Her chin trembles. “Then I’m coming too.”
A muscle in Max’s jaw jumps. Wrecker, hovering behind her, rubs the back of his neck with a helpless groan. I walk toward Daisy, Hugo sitting by my side like he senses the uncertainty radiating off her.
“Daisy,” I say softly. “You can’t come with us.”
“I don’t want to stay alone. Not after—” She swallows hard. “Not after everything.”
I reach for her hands. She lets me take them, fingers trembling. “You won’t be alone,” I promise. “But coming with us? It’s too dangerous.”
She looks down, jaw trembling. A quiet voice comes from down the hall. “I’ll stay with her.”
We all turn. It’s Gray, one of the mid-level Serpents, loyal, calm, someone who’s been with us long enough to be trusted but far enough outside the inner circle to avoid drawing attention.
He stands with his hands in his pockets, wearing an expression that’s equal parts empathy and absolute seriousness.
Daisy lifts her eyes to his. “You’ll stay?”
Gray nods. “I won’t leave you. Not for a second.”
Daisy’s shoulders lower just a fraction. It’s enough.
I brush a curl from her cheek. “And Hugo will stay with you, too.”
At his name, Hugo lifts his head and nudges Daisy’s hip, whining softly. Her face crumples with relief as she wraps both arms around the dog’s neck. Hugo leans into her, guardian mode activated.
“You’re safe here,” I tell her. “I swear it. And we’re coming back with him.”
She nods, wiping her eyes quickly like she doesn’t want anyone to see.
Max squeezes my shoulder, grounding me again. “Come on,” he murmurs. “Let’s suit up.”
Daisy watches us go until we disappear down the hall. Hugo pressed loyally against her side.
The armory hums with controlled chaos. Weapons lay out on tables. Comms being tested. Ammo counted. Black gear stacked in neat rows like a private army about to mobilize.
Max pulls my favorite vest from a shelf, holding it out with two fingers like a peace offering. “You up for this?” he asks quietly.
“It doesn’t matter if I am,” I say. “We have to bring him home.”
He nods once, something unreadable flickering across his face. “We will bring him home,” he whispers.
I strap on my holster, slide my blade into the sheath on my thigh, the twin to the one Liam keeps under his pillow. The one that should be with him right now. My chest tightens, and my breath catches somewhere in my throat.
Max notices instantly, like he always does. He steps closer, crowding my space, one hand on the back of my neck, thumb stroking slowly against my skin. “Sparrow,” he murmurs, “Come back to me. Just for a second.”
I exhale shakily. “I’m here.”
“Stay here.”
“I’m trying.”
He presses his forehead to mine briefly. “Good, we need you focused.” He steps back only when Doc walks in, a medical bag over her shoulder and an expression that’s equal parts steely resolve and quiet concern.
“I’m coming,” she says before I can ask.
“Good,” I tell her. “We might need you.”
“You always have me.”
She studies me for a moment, not just the surface, but deeper. Her eyes roam down my frame. Not lingering. Not suspicious. Just searching.
“Any dizziness?” She asks lightly.
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Fatigue?”
I hesitate. She notices.
“Wrenley.” Her voice softens. “You’ve been through days of psychological shock. You fainted. You dissociated. Your body is trying to catch up. That can feel like exhaustion or something more.”
I nod once. Max watches us carefully, protective tension rising in his shoulders. “I’m fine,” I say. “Just… tired.”
Doc holds my gaze a beat longer than normal, as if she’s reading something beneath my skin, something even I haven’t put language to yet. She finally nods. “Let me know if that changes,” she says. “And you stick close to the family. No rushing ahead. No running into danger alone.”
“I won’t,” I lie.
She snorts. “You absolutely will, but at least now I’ve said it.”
Max exhales a quiet laugh, the tension breaking for half a second.
Doc steps close, placing two fingers against my throat. “Your pulse is elevated.”
“I’m about to walk into a nightmare. That seems normal.”
“Mm,” she hums. “Still. Keep breathing evenly. You push too hard right now, and you’ll crash. And the last thing anyone needs is you losing consciousness mid-rescue.”
She means the panic attack. She means the fainting. But the way her eyes move over me, quick, soft, professional. It’s subtle but makes me think she is more worried than she is letting on.
Max steps closer again. “She’ll be okay. I’ll make sure.”
Doc lifts an eyebrow. “See that you do.”
She moves off to check Torque's gear, leaving Max and me alone again for a moment. He helps adjust my vest, straps tightening around my ribs. He hesitates. “You ready?” he asks quietly.
I look at him. In a room full of people who would die for us. At the empty space where Liam should be. “No,” I say. “This shouldn’t have to be a mission, but here we go.”
The air outside is cool, sharp, humming with storm-level tension.
The mansion lights spill across the gravel driveway where every Serpent, including the ones who don’t normally mobilize, waits in rows beside black SUVs and blacked-out motorcycles.
Engines rumble, low and dangerous, like they know where we’re going.
Like they know who we’re going to bring home.
I stand between Max and Torque, my hands braced on the hood of the lead SUV as everyone gathers around us.
Riot swings a leg over his bike, visor up, eyes locked on me.
Wrecker stands at the passenger door, jaw ticking.
Elias and Margot load gear into the back of the middle SUV.
Doc checks the last of her supplies and slides into the car behind them.
Everyone waits. Everyone listens. My stomach knots, tight and sharp.
But my voice comes out steady. Quiet and lethal.
“You all know why we’re here,” I say. No one flinches.
No one shifts. They just lean in closer, the way soldiers lean in before a war.
“Sebastian has Reaper,” I continue. “We don’t know what he’s done.
But we know one thing—” I lift my chin, eyes sweeping the entire line of them. “—We’re getting him back.”
Torque nods, Riot slams his visor down. Max stands so close to me I can feel the heat of him. I keep going. “This isn’t a rescue,” I say. “It’s extraction. It’s retaliation. It’s a message.”
A few men murmur in agreement. Weapons click into holsters like punctuation. My voice drops to a razor’s edge. “And listen to me—listen carefully—because this part matters more than anything.”
Silence. Even the engines seem to be quiet. “Everyone comes home.” My chest tightens, but my tone does not. “That’s not negotiable. We go in together. We leave together. No one deviates. No one plays the hero. Not even me.”
Torque huffs a rough laugh at that. Max’s hand finds the small of my back, steadying but not soft.
I take one step forward. “If something happens to any of you,” I say.
“Reaper will never forgive me. And I refuse to disappoint him. So, I’m telling you now, I will burn that entire district to the ground before I lose another one of you. ”
A ripple goes through the group. Fury. Loyalty.
Resolve. Riot revs his bike once in answer.
Torque taps the SUV, Elias gives a sharp nod from his position.
Max looks at me like he did, when Liam slipped the Serpent symbol around my neck, a crown I claimed for myself.
Wrecker murmurs something in Italian that sounds like approval.
I lift my voice, not shouting, just commanding. “Load up!”
The war machine moves instantly. SUV doors slam. Bikes roar to life. Weapons are checked, chambered, and clipped. Max heads for the driver’s seat of our SUV, but I grab his jacket and pull him back for a second. “Stay with me,” I say quietly.
“Always,” he replies.
The convoy lines up, three SUVs in front. Two in back. Six bikes splitting formation. Serpent insignias glinting under the lights.
Elias calls out over comms. “GPS locked. Last tracker pinged, East industrial district. Moving out.”
Torque climbs into the front passenger seat of the lead SUV, eyes forward like he’s already seeing the battlefield.
I take my spot in the backseat behind Max in the driver's seat, heart pounding in a slow, terrifying rhythm. The gate ahead of us creaks as it opens. Max shifts into drive. I take a breath, slow and sharp, and look ahead at the dark road stretching toward the place where Liam’s signal hit before he came home and cut out his tracker. The place he walked into alone.
“Hold on,” Max murmurs as the engine growls. And then, we move. A fleet of engines roaring into the night. A convoy fueled by fury, fear, and the kind of devotion that will flatten a city if it means bringing my husband home.
The mansion disappears behind us. The hunt begins.