Chapter Twenty-Eight
White Ravens
Scar
The Ravens didn’t eat in a typical office-style cafeteria. There were no long Formica tables or harsh overhead fluorescents.
Scar sat in a private dining hall reserved for the Ravens, their handlers, and a select few of their staff allowed inside their orbit.
The room looked like a business-class airport lounge with its matte-black stone tables, recessed lighting, and muted walls.
They each had their own personal chef, who understood their appetites and dietary needs.
Meridian sat across from him, eating a fruit platter, dressed in a black Tom Ford velour tracksuit.
Grace was to his left, always quiet, reading the actual New York Times newspaper he had delivered every day—waiting in line to be read next were The Wall Street Journal, Washington Post, and The Guardian.
Roz sat a couple of tables over with Corvo, both in an intense conversation about the overreach of AI that Scar had no problem ignoring.
His assistant placed a frosted mug of Belgian pale ale and a glass of water in front of him without him asking.
Scar took a large gulp as he stared at one of the many screens mounted on the stone wall. There was no sound, just a satellite feed of a port facility and a time stamp.
“Jo’s been watching this for two nights,” he said, sounding bored. “When are we getting the order?”
“Tomorrow we’ll go in and retrieve the asset, get him across the border.” Meridian glared at him with those dark eyes. “And we do it quietly.”
Scar leaned back, taking another long drink of his beer. “Who will be on the ground?”
“You’ll be on the perimeter with Ex, while the Browns and I breach. You are to keep watch and stay quiet.”
Scar huffed, rolling his eyes.
Meridian’s stare held him in place.
“When I say quiet, I mean fuckin’ quiet. None of that bullshit you pulled in Kyiv, when you turned a clean pickup into a blood bath because you wanted to make a point.”
“I guess I struggle with meekness when it comes to pedophiles and men trafficking children.”
Grace still hadn’t opened his mouth, but from the quick expression he flicked his way over top of his newspaper, it seemed as if he felt the same.
The door opened, and Zorion walked in with Valor on his heels.
They sat at the table, bringing with them the scent of a new, warmer season.
Meridian didn’t ask…he ordered. “Report.”
“He did well,” Zorion grinned. “Really well.”
Scar’s pulse lurched, knowing they were talking about Gage, but he kept his face blank.
“Define ‘well,’” Meridian said. “Well enough for me to use?”
“He learns fast,” Valor said. “He’s hard to rattle, even harder to stop.”
Zorion’s mouth curved. “He tracked us through shifts in the canopy and changes in the wind. In a night roaring with noise, he still picked out every sound that mattered.”
Scar swallowed. They weren’t describing the same timid man who’d hidden behind Roz any time he showed up on the block.
“I say hell yeah, you can use him. He’s unbelievable, and he’s got a level of composure that rivals any of ours. He’s restraint and power with a tinge of empathy—the kind of danger our marks won’t see coming.”
Scar tightened his fingers around the edge of the table.
He hadn’t seen much of Gage in the last couple of months, besides a few passings in the hall and departments.
The Blacks had Scar doing small missions that often took him out of the state or the country, and Gage had been putting in countless hours of learning and specialized training.
Scar tried to convince himself it didn’t matter if he saw Gage or not, but his body told him it did.
“And the cane?” Grace asked, his low, harsh voice a rare thing to hear.
Zorion laughed. “It’s not a cane. It’s a weapons system. Haptics in the grip, terrain-read at the end, and it expands and contracts at his command. He’s already using it as if it were built into his arm. He fuckin’ batted one of my arrows out of midair.”
Scar’s throat went dry as he imagined Gage in fight mode. Strong and fearless.
He pictured him stepping into violence with assuredness. Eliminating threats…without killing them.
It did something stimulating and electric inside of him.
He lowered his eyes to his drink, pretending he wasn’t listening, all while imagining fighting with Gage. Being close enough to feel his heat, to put his mouth near his ear to tell him where the threat was, then watch him go after it.
“He’s still holding to his no-kill rule,” Roz added.
Scar forced his attention back into the room.
“Every mission doesn’t have to have fatalities.” Zorion frowned.
Roz snorted. “That’s an odd thing for an assassin to say.”
“Odd, but true,” Valor said. “Gage can eliminate an enemy without taking their life. He’s been trained to break the things that’ll take an opponent down in a way they won’t be able to get back up.”
Scar’s body went hot.
He wanted to see Gage stripping a man’s ability to hurt anyone ever again— dispensing a merciful kind of cruelty—and walking away as if he were prosecutor, judge, and enforcer.
Meridian started to talk more about the upcoming mission of collapsing a black-market weapons corridor, but Scar barely heard him when the dining lounge door opened again and Gage walked in.
And, of course, he looked fuckin’ irresistible.
Scar’s full attention went to him like thirst recognizing water.
Gage’s hair was damp as if he’d just gotten out of the shower. Parts of his hair were so blond now that it gleamed silver under the lights. It had grown longer, almost brushing the nape of his neck and falling in layers he swept back from his face.
He wore a soft-looking white-and-heather-gray sweatsuit and silver-rimmed sunglasses.
Gage’s cane was different too, as if his tech team was always trying to outdo the last model. He walked without it or hesitation, as if the room was arranged around him.
He went to the empty seat beside Scar, sat down, and made himself comfortable. Close enough, Scar could smell Gage’s enticing, powder-soft warmth. A combination that turned his control into an impossible feat.
Gage settled his focus on him as if he were the only person in the room worth addressing.
“Good evening.”
His voice was that sexy, mellow-quiet confidence that never failed to slide under Scar’s skin like a wandering hand.
He managed a croaky, “Hey,” before he had to clear the lust from his throat.
“Long time, no see.” Gage laughed, elbowing him in his side. “Get it?”
Almost everyone laughed, but Scar didn’t.
Gage’s assistant came to him a few seconds later and placed a glass of water at his right hand.
“You ready to eat?” he asked.
“Yes, please. I’m starving. I’ll have whatever Chef can whip up really quick.”
Scar stared at Gage’s mouth, wondering what those pink lips tasted like. If they were as sweet as they looked.
Conversations resumed around them as though nothing significant was happening.
Meridian and Grace stayed on the mission topic. Valor and Zorion were having a hushed exchange, and Roz was now talking excitedly with Corvo about the next Olympics being on the West Coast and going to a few events.
Joshua returned ten minutes later with a plate of prime rib, asparagus, roasted potatoes, and set it down in front of Gage.
Gage leaned forward and inhaled before he sat back and licked his pretty lips.
“Smells great, Josh. Thank you.”
He unwrapped his cutlery from the cloth napkin, rotated his plate until the meat was at six o’clock and his vegetables at ten and two, and dug in.
There was no fumbling or uncertainty as he ate. He was so meticulous. So perfect.
Scar was staring, but he couldn’t stop.
Meridian narrowed his eyes at him before he turned away.
Zorion didn’t even pretend not to notice, which felt worse.
Gage chewed, swallowed, then let out a soft chuckle.
“Do you want a bite?” he asked. “You’re staring as if you want some.”
I do, but not the food.
Scar reached over and took an asparagus spear from Gage’s plate. He put the tip in his mouth and bit down, his gaze never leaving Gage’s face.
Gage didn’t react the way he’d expected.
He didn’t recoil or show any shyness. He just smiled and kept eating.
The conversations around them drifted in and out. Words about ports, timing, and exits shifting to background noise.
All he could focus on was Gage.
The way his lips closed around his fork, and how his throat worked when he swallowed.
Scar leaned in enough to warm the air between them, until their breaths mingled and his nose was so close to Gage’s throat that he could bask in that damn scent.
“Can I see you later?” Scar asked, keeping his voice low.
Gage turned his head slowly toward him. “See me and do what?”
That damn voice did something criminal below Scar’s belt.
“I wanna fight you,” he whispered.
Gage’s laugh was quiet, teasing. “You really that brave?”
Scar nodded, his forehead brushing Gage’s temple. “I wanna see what you got.”
“Time and place,” Gage said confidently.
He didn’t hesitate. “Midnight. In the Blacks’ training arena.”
Gage leaned an inch closer, and all Scar had to do was take his mouth—
The door opened again, and Adrian walked in.
Scar gritted his teeth at the feel of cold water dousing the heat that been simmering between him and his partner.
Adrian greeted them pleasantly, as if he belonged and hadn’t been an obstacle in Scar’s path since the beginning.
Adrian bent down to Gage’s ear, and Scar watched him do it with barely restrained anger.
“I know your training is done for the day.” Adrian’s tone was deep and intimate. “But I have a surprise for you.”
Gage’s expression brightened in a way Scar hated because it wasn’t him who’d made it happen.
“Oh yeah?” Gage said. “And what will it be tonight? Axe-throwing or another escape room?”
Adrian smiled. “Nope. I’m taking you to church.”
Gage froze for half a beat before his mouth spread into a full dazzling smile.
“No way. Seriously? I can go to a public church?”
“I checked with Jo. She said it’s fine,” Adrian said. “It’s not a mega church. It’s a small storefront church with only a few members. The reverend goes to my gym. He’s a real humble guy.”
Gage shoved his plate toward Scar. “You can finish this if you want.”
He stood, and Adrian had the audacity to offer Gage his arm.
Gage didn’t need help, and everyone in the room knew it, but Gage took it anyway…because he liked Adrian.
Liked that Adrian made him smile. Liked that Adrian had shown up day after day and helped him develop all that confidence.
But Scar had done little to nothing, while expecting some unseen force to place Gage in his arms.
Adrian glanced back at him with smugness.
Scar balled his fists until his nails bit into his palms.
“Don’t you even fuckin’ think about it,” Meridian growled.
Gage and Adrian walked out of the door together, leaving him beside an empty seat and the half-eaten dinner they’d been sharing.
Scar stood so fast his chair flipped over. He grabbed the plate and hurled it across the room.
It shattered against the far wall with a crack like a gunshot, as au jus and potatoes splattered everywhere.
His brothers didn’t even flinch, and Roz just shook his head at him like he thought he was pathetic.
Corvo lifted his watch and spoke to whoever waited for orders at his beck and call. “Remove Adrian Shaw’s access to the Ravens dining lounge.”
Meridian looked mildly inconvenienced, his voice dark and strained. “Let me give you some advice, Scar. Stop being a fuckin’ pussy. If you want him…take him.”
Scar was damn near hyperventilating, his chest pumping up and down as he struggled not to go after Adrian and put his head through a wall.
Roz sucked his teeth. “Gage is not for the taking.”
Valor covered his grin.
Roz pointed at Scar. “Gage is a decent man. He’s the kinda’ guy you gotta come correct with. If you’re not serious, then find some other random ass to play with and leave him alone.”
Scar’s hands shook as he turned and stormed out.
He didn’t leave to go cool off.
He went to plan.