Chapter Thirty-Two
White Ravens
Gage
The War Room bustled with controlled urgency.
Handlers and members of their field team were already inside.
Gage walked in, not waiting for permission to take command.
“Where is he?”
“They’re pulling it up now.” Roz’s voice was tight.
Seconds later, Jo arrived with her team, Meridian and Grace following close behind her.
“Pull the locator feed and backtrack him.” Meridian gritted.
Roz was in Gage’s ear, giving him a play-by-play of what they were watching.
“The main screen is showing a street view from a high camera angle. He was about twelve miles from headquarters, on foot, unhooded, moving north up F street to 21st.”
“Where is he now?” he barked.
“Gage, stay calm,” Jo ordered.
How the hell was he supposed to do that? Walking down the street wasn’t a cause for him to activate his emergency beacon.
“Two men are approaching him from the front,” Roz said.
Gage’s heart kicked hard, but he forced himself to stay in his seat.
Roz’s tone changed. “I know them.”
“How?” Jo asked.
“Chicago. They’re from Scar’s old crew.”
Gage’s blood went cold.
“They’re giving him a dap, and shoulder bump, as if…”
“I already see the setup,” Zorion said.
“Four coming up fast from behind,” Roz continued. “Scar looks like he’s calculating, but— Fuck.”
Gage squeezed his cane, needing his other one: The Halo.
“One of them is pressing something into Scar’s side, probably a gun. They’re forcing him into a car. A black Lincoln SUV.”
“Trace the plates,” Jo said, but the Intel team already had it before she could finish the sentence.
“It’s a rental.”
Roz kept narrating, “They’re moving, skidding away from the curb.”
“If you lose him, that’s your fuckin’ asses,” Meridian said darkly to whoever was hacking the CCTV feeds.
“They’re jumping on the Beltway.”
They followed the car northeast on I-495 until it got off at Exit 23 towards Trinidad—a city known for its high crime rates.
The longer Gage waited the more anxious…and furious, he became.
The SUV turned into a rundown club parking lot and stopped at the back entrance.
“Help me out here, Roz.” Jo said, sounding a little stressed and tired. “I know the rules. No one leaves a gang, especially one like the Kings, but did they really come all this way for revenge?”
“There’s no way they could’ve known Scar was here. It must be a lucky fuckin’ coincidence they spotted him on the street,” Roz answered.
He shot up straighter, snapping his fingers.
“Oh shit! I bet they’re here for the concert this weekend. J-Riot is performing at the Capital One arena on Saturday. He’s a big hip-hop artist who was born and raised in the South Side and has always shouted out the Kings in his songs. I guarantee that’s why they’re here.”
“Well, they should’ve just watched the show and left,” Meridian said coldly. “Because now they’re gonna’’ be buried here.”
“They’ll rough him up before they kill him,” Roz said flatly. “We got time to get him.”
“Corvo, ready the team for—”
“No,” Gage snapped, cutting Meridian off. “Ready my team. I’m going to get my partner myself.”
“Gage—” Someone called out, but he didn’t wait to hear any objections.
The corridor leading to their side of the facility felt longer than it was because everything inside Gage was moving fast.
When he reached the junction where the Whites’ Rapid Response Mobility Unit merged with the Field Operations Wing, he didn’t have to ask Roz who was in there… He could hear the organized efficiency of the dedicated men and women who’d trained months for this very moment.
His weapons were being laid out while Elias—no longer full of jovial, fun energy—was all business as he dressed him for battle as his weapons team readied his gear.
Four minutes later, Elias did a final check of his tactical layers, coms wiring, and micro-camera glasses.
“You’re set.”
It would be his first time in the field, but he’d trained months for this.
He was ready.
The thought should have scared him, but instead, he was radiating calm on the inside.
Gage walked down the hall toward the underground bay where their armored vehicles waited, cane in hand, spine ramrod straight, mind narrowed to one point.
Scar. Mine.
An announcement sounded through headquarters.
“White Raven alert. Field code red. The Saint deploying. All essential units activated.”
He could feel them watching him—staff, medical personnel, and security—the weight of disbelief and hesitation in their stares.
He didn’t lower his head.
The Greens approached, and without a word, made a tight formation around him.
A warmth spread through his chest at the reassurance that he stood among brothers who didn’t doubt him.
Another set of footsteps closed in quickly from the front, the pace urgent and uneven. He picked up on the person’s scent when they were still several feet away.
Adrian.
Gage gritted his teeth but didn’t slow his strides.
“Gage, don’t do this. You can’t risk your life to—”
Valor reacted so fast it barely registered as motion. One moment, Adrian was in his path, the next, a hard thud hit the wall.
Gage couldn’t spare him a single thought, needing to keep his mind centered on one thing.
His heart.
In the armored vehicle, Roz’s voice returned. “Comms check.”
“Loud and clear,” he answered.
“Wrist interface and cam feed are live.” Roz paused. “You’re green to deploy.”
Up front, his field driver, Callahan, answered in a clipped, official tone. “Copy, Roz. GPS lock confirmed. Go for green.”
The Hummer surged out of the bay and onto the night streets with the route already pre-cleared and timed.
Twenty-six minutes later, the bass from the club rattled the vehicle’s bulletproof windows as Callahan pulled up to the front and let him out at the door.
They didn’t need to secure the perimeter or engage with tactical planning. These were ignorant men, with no real discipline or skills that could compete with their superior abilities.
Zorion shot an arrow at the door and blew the entrance open.
The frame splintered as metal buckled, projecting shards and dust outward in a violent spray.
The music stuttered, warped, and died, leaving only panic and the ringing aftermath of the blast.
Gage stepped through first.
Alone.
An offensive chaos of sound and scents slammed into him. Alcohol, sweat, cologne, perfumes, and heat from dozens of bodies moving.
Roz’s voice was there fast, transforming the madness into a map.
“Room depth sixteen yards. Two-tier layout. Bar to your left, ten o’clock, twenty-four feet.
Pillars at two and eight o’clock, six feet.
Seven hostiles clustered, eleven o’clock, sixteen feet.
One stairwell, close right, a corridor, immediate left.
I got eyes on your target. Scar’s dead ahead, ninety feet. ”
Gage tightened his grip on his cane.
Then he heard him. His voice, was rough and deep, cutting through the noise.
“It’s about damn time.”