Chapter Sixteen
White Ravens
Gage
The winter air on the rooftop of the Ravens’ headquarters cut through Gage the moment the helicopter doors opened.
Washington, DC, at night wasn’t quiet. It pulsed with distant sirens, the roar of heavy traffic, the steady beep of crosswalk signals, and the shrill whistle of the wind slicing through high-rise buildings.
The floodlights over the landing pad were bright enough to make pain flare behind his eyes. He frowned and turned his face away as if he could escape it.
Roz clamped his hand around his bicep like a vise as he guided him down the metal steps.
“There’s a whole fuckin’ welcoming committee standing out here.”
Gage felt them before Roz whispered it.
The space held a different kind of stillness when multiple people stood watching him.
Roz leaned in again, his gritty voice brushing his ear. “There’s a woman in a businesslike suit who looks mad-important. That must be, Jo. She’s got about a half dozen people behind her.”
He could hear more hushed conversations from a handful of men and women standing off to the left.
“There’s another group over there wearing all white,” Roz added. “Three of them are in white lab coats.”
Roz clutched him harder, stopping him short.
“Gage,” a woman said in a calm but authoritative tone. “Welcome home. I’m Jo, director of the Ravens.”
Home. That word still felt wrong.
“I have a few members of my team with me. My personal assistants, our director of intelligence, the head of field strategy, our hospitality and logistics division heads, my lead enhancement directors, and my chief medical officer.” She paused and cleared her throat.
“Well, um, no need to make all the introductions at once.”
He wondered what those titles meant, what roles they carried out. They all addressed him with respect, and dare he say, awe in their voices.
Each person’s greeting was quiet and polite, nothing like the cold detachment of the ones from the White Sector. No one grabbed him or barked orders.
“Hello, Gage, my name is Rose McIntyre, I’m the lead coordinator of your personal assistants and hospitality team.”
Gage’s head was spinning.
A woman came closer, carrying the soft scent of vanilla shampoo and floral perfume. Gage imagined she had long blonde hair with deep curls and pale skin that blushed when she was outside in the cold.
“I’m Rose McIntyre, lead of your administrative and hospitality team.”
Hospitality?
“I manage the team that handles your daily logistics: Like appointments, needs for your living quarters, meals, your operational readiness, even your recovery blocks so you stay mission-efficient. You also have someone that governs communication between you and the different divisions, and a slew of other things. So, I basically make sure you have what you need before you even know you need it.”
Um. Will I really need all that?
“But, right now, my sole responsibility is to make sure you’re comfortable and that you have everything you need while you settle in.”
Rose’s voice was low and warm, making everything she said sound comforting.
“Tonight, you have no responsibilities or expectations. Your only task is to rest and become familiar with your quarters. This facility is your home, your haven. And tomorrow—if you feel up to it—we’ll begin your orientation.”
Gage nodded.
“I’ll escort you to your personal quarters.”
“Nah,” Roz cut in sharply. “I’ll take him. He’s not going anywhere without me.”
Rose’s voice was gentle. “I can show you both—”
“No,” Roz snapped. “Just tell me where it is.”
Gage sighed inwardly. He knew his friend meant well, but he was starting to make him feel like a toddler being dragged around by an overprotective parent.
“I’m Dr. Aliyah Rockwell,” another woman said.
Roz yanked Gage behind him. “Whoa, back up. He don’t need no doctor or any more fuckin’ experiments.”
“Roz, I can understand your hesitation,” Jo intervened.
“But Dr. Rockwell is one of the country’s leading ophthalmologists.
She’s the former Chief of Vision Trauma at Walter Reed and served over twenty years, rehabilitating combat veterans with catastrophic sight loss. We’re very lucky to have her.”
Dr. Rockwell stepped in closer. Very close.
Her honey-sweet scent was subtle. Her authority and confidence weren’t.
She got in Roz’s space, close enough Gage could feel the annoyance in her breathing.
“Let me be extremely clear,” she said with a sharp tone.
“I am the only thing standing between your friend and a lifetime of confusion and pain. No one is experimenting on him. My job is to teach Gage how to live, not as a helpless blind victim, but as a vision-impaired Raven. A man with independence and full use of the abilities and strength he doesn’t realize he possesses. ”
Roz didn’t say anything else.
Thank God.
Dr. Rockwell lowered her voice, like doctors did when talking to a hesitant patient.
“Gage, without a full examination, I can already see how fatigued you are,” she said. “Your conjunctiva is inflamed. The pupillary response is reduced to less than forty percent, and the eye muscles behind the right eye are twitching from overstimulation.”
He thought her assessment might be spot on since it felt like his eyes were about to burst into flames.
“Can someone kill the floodlights, please? Now,” she ordered.
The doctor’s breath ghosted over his chin. She was short, but she carried herself like a giant.
He already liked her.
A second later, the lights snapped off.
The burning pressure eased almost instantly.
“I’ve had weighted eye masks placed in a warmer in your quarters. They’re infused with chamomile and lavender. It’ll help soothe your retinal pain and reduce your headache.”
Gage was too exhausted and sore to turn down any potential relief.
During the remainder of the flight, Valor and Zorion had told him their own story, which sounded like hell incarnate. Yet they stood alive, free, content, and loyal to Jo. If they trusted her…maybe he could try too.
“Okay,” he sighed.
“Right this way.” Rose said.
“Fine. Let’s go.” Roz took his arm and dragged him forward, but a hand was slapped against his friend’s chest.
“Are you blind?” Dr. Rockwell barked.
“What?” Roz sputtered.
She got in his face like a drill sergeant.
“I said. Are. You. Blind?”
“No…?”
“Then why are you clutching his goddamn arm?” she snarled.
She gently peeled Roz’s grip from his bicep and repositioned their hold, so Gage’s hand rested on the back of Roz’s upper arm.
“There,” she said. “Assist him, don’t lead him. He’s not a fuckin’ pony.”
Gage smiled.
The elevator ascended quietly while Rose continued to fill him in.
“There are quite a few of us assigned to you. Once we learn your preferences, we’ll be better able to anticipate your needs. Food, clothing, room adjustments, comfort items.”
“We’ll be fine,” Roz muttered.
“Everyone says that at first,” she said with a delicate laugh—Gage imagined she had a nice smile, full lips, and perfect teeth. “You should see how busy the Black and Browns keep their team. Grace cooks a lot, and Meridian has an extensive personal care regimen.”
Black and Browns? He hoped they were as decent as the Greens.
Rose punched in a code on the door, and a second later, it opened with a quiet hiss.
Roz stopped dead. “Holy fuck.”
Gage’s brows knit. “What?”
“It’s nice as hell, G.”
“This is just the basic layout. You, of course, can personalize it. You have clothes already stocked in the wardrobe. There’s food in the fridge and pantry, but I encourage you to make a list of what you like, and one of us will get it ordered for you.”
“Thank you,” Gage said.
“If you need anything, extension thirty-four reaches us at all hours.” She stopped walking as if remembering something. “Oh— And your partner’s quarters are directly across the hall.”
Gage straightened. “My partner?”
“Scar,” she said matter-of-factly.
Roz exploded. “Like hell that motherf—”
Gage snapped his hand up, quick and final, needing Roz to shut up.
“Is Scar here?” he asked tightly.
“No. The Blacks and Browns are still in the field, but Meridian never comes back empty-handed.”
“I want to know the moment he arrives,” he demanded.
“Absolutely, sir.”
Gage could feel the heat of Roz’s glare, but he ignored it and instead told him to show him around the place.
Roz grabbed his forearm, and Gage reversed the grip like they’d been shown.
They walked into what he assumed was the main area.
“This place is like a penthouse on the top floor of a hotel.”
The carpet beneath his feet was so dense that he tugged off his tennis shoes and socks to enjoy it.
The living room was a wide-open space that was easy to navigate.
There was nothing in the middle of the floor for him to run into, and the minimal furniture had rounded edges—no sharp corners. He traced his palm along the sectional, squeezing the faux-fur ribbed material.
The kitchen island was a long expanse of cool marble.
When he walked into what Roz said was his bedroom, the low whistle told him enough. He sat on the bed and didn’t want to get back up. If he weren’t so hungry, he would’ve immediately gotten under the heavy covers.
He perched on a high stool at the island while Roz rummaged through the fridge.
“It’s really organized in here,” Roz mumbled. “Like…super neat. Oh shit.”
Gage stiffened. “What?”
“Everything’s labeled in Braille,” Roz said softly. “The appliances, cabinets, the food…even the microwave.”
It’s tailored for me. How’d they even know I’d come?
Roz slid a plate and a bottle of juice toward him.
He ate his turkey, ham, and cheese sandwich in silent contemplation until Roz said quietly, “So…Scar, huh? You lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie. I omitted.”
“Same damn thing.”
“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you thinking he was behind all of this.”
Roz scoffed. “Scar’s an evil, too-smart sonofabitch. I wouldn’t doubt he had something to do with you gettin’ taken.”
Gage shook his head.
“Scar’s had it out for you from the moment I brought you on the block.”
I know.
“I don’t believe in coincidences, G.”
Gage sighed. “Me either. But I do believe in divine intervention.”
“Come on, man! Why do—”
Gage put his hand up again.
“I’m tired, Roz. I’mma’ go lie down.”
He felt as though he hadn’t slept in weeks.
Roz pushed back his chair, and Gage waved him off.
“I can get there myself.”
He walked the route toward his bedroom that he’d somehow already memorized. Counting his steps and running his fingertips along the walls until he was back in the pine-scented bathroom.
He fumbled over the various switches, flipping them on and off, and found one that heated the floor.
He turned on the taps in the shower, that took a lot less time to heat up than at Roz’s place.
Multiple jets struck his tense muscles from above and behind with the perfect amount of pressure.
Afterward, he located the eye mask in the warmer on his nightstand and wrapped it around his face. He yanked his towel off, climbed on top of the massive bed, and sank into the plush mattress beneath cool cotton sheets.
For the first time in what felt like months, he allowed himself to rest.
He had a sinking feeling his life was about to get real.
But tonight? Tonight, he’d sleep.