8. 8 Blaze
8: Blaze
The air inside the garage is thick with the mingled scents of sweat, blood, and antiseptic. Thorne leans against the table, his body hunched forward. His upper bicep is wrapped in a bloody bandage, the stitches fresh but holding. Claudia mended me before him, mine being a faster fix than his since I asked her to staple it again. She warned me I'd have a nastier scar, but I told her it didn't matter.
All my life I've taken care of my body, keeping fit and healthy. I even have a skin routine, or did anyway, but none of that matters now. It's all trivial.
Tori is the only thing that matters .
Across the room, Gerardo winces as Claudia finishes tightening the fresh dressing on his leg. She mutters something about how he should be thankful she’s here to keep his sorry ass intact, but he doesn’t respond. His knuckles are white against the chair, and his eyes are locked on the far wall like it might swallow him whole.
I sit in a chair near the corner, running my hand through my hair and staring at the floor. My temples throb with exhaustion and frustration. Every second that Tori’s with him burns like acid in my veins. We failed to rescue her.
I close my eyes for just a second before Ryder is at it again.
“You said there weren’t many people, Rick. What the fuck were all those people?” He’s yelling again, and I’m too exhausted to hear it.
He’s not wrong, though.
We were blindsided when we shouldn’t have been. Yet here we are with our dicks in our hands and no Tori, fucking it all up again. I think it’s my new thing. No longer the perfectionist with all the answers.
Rick stands, pressing his lanky body against Ryder like he’s not afraid to fight, even though we all know he’d get his ass beat in a second flat. “I already told you. They were out of sight of the camera. It’s not my fault Max didn’t spot it on his scouting, or you weren’t well-equipped enough to handle Nico. Go shovel your shit onto someone else.”
“I swear to god—”
“Enough!” Thorne yells. If he was in a bad mood before, he's in even worse shape now.
“No one expected him to have this many men. Not even Diablo. He wasn’t pleased when I gave him the news,” Paulo lets us know as he enters the room, folding his burner phone shut with a click. “He’s meeting with us tonight, and we need to have something to give him. Because otherwise…”
Paulo trails off, his mind going to places it shouldn’t. He was never one to scare easily, so the fact that he acts like Diablo could snap his fingers and have him turn into a puddle of blood tells me more than I’d like to know. It certainly puts an air of caution on the guy, more so than the hundreds of rumors about him.
“Great, so we plan. We dig up information that he might not know, and we get him something. I don’t want beef with Diablo,” Claudia chimes in as she jabs Gerardo with a needle. He yells out in pain, and Claudia shoots him a glare. “Ay, quit being such a baby. Hold still.”
“Rick, got anything?” I ask, because if anyone can dig anything up in this digital age, it’s this guy.
“Off the top of my head, no,” he snaps back, his brows pinched together. He might not admit it, but he’s actually really pissed that he was wrong about Nico’s numbers. He’s not used to being wrong. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll find something. But I’m going to need a shit ton of caffeine, since you kept me up all night.” He gestures over his shoulder at the small window in the garage pouring in the hazy blue light of dawn.
“I’ll make the coffee run!” Keagan shouts, hopping off the crate he’d perched himself on. “The baristas always like me enough to give me a discount, or a free coffee.” He winks at Marisol, who just rolls her eyes.
“In your dreams. I’m sure they just want you to get out faster,” she quips, focusing back on cleaning her weapon.
“It’s okay, Marisol. I forgive you.” Keagan places his hand over his heart as if to say he has it in him to let this go. “I know it’s not every day you fall for someone immediately. You’re too scared to admit it, and I can understand that.”
She scoffs but doesn’t say anything else, and Ryder just laughs, his anger fading by the minute. Thorne, however, is exuding an aura so potent I’m sure it killed the fly at his foot.
Keagan leaves to get the coffee and we sit around, trying to come up with something good to tell Diablo. When Keagan returns and hands out coffee to everyone, we’ve made very little progress.
“Come on, Rick. I thought you were the best around,” he teases, as he hands him the largest cup of coffee he ordered.
“I am. It just takes a second to hack into government databases,” he responds, his gaze laser-focused on his computer. He takes a sip of his coffee just as his computer dings. “There, see? A hit.”
His eyes scan whatever document comes up, and that triumphant smile is wiped away in seconds. His gaze lands on me, then Thorne, and finally Ryder. “You’re not going to like this.” My heart starts to race as I wait for the news, fearing the worst. “County records state that Tori… Tori is now married to Nico.”
The words hit like a fist to the chest.
Ryder curses under his breath, pacing the room like a caged animal. Thorne stays frozen, his knuckles white as he grips the edge of the table. And me? For one awful, fleeting moment, doubt claws its way into my brain. What if she doesn’t love us? What if she could never love us after what we did to her, and she was only pretending all this time?
I shove the thought down hard, disgusted with myself for even letting it in. Tori’s ours. She’s mine . Whatever the hell is happening, there’s no way she’d willingly marry Nico. Not after everything we’ve been through.
“She wouldn’t do this,” Ryder says, more to himself than anyone else.
“She didn’t,” Thorne refutes, his voice like steel. “Nico’s forcing her into this. He has to be.”
I clench my hands into fists at my sides. “We’re wasting time,” I growl, fury rising in me with each tick of the clock. “If that son of a bitch thinks he can claim her, he’s dead wrong.”
Thorne nods, already slipping back into commander mode. “Agreed. We’re getting her back.”
“Damn right we are,” Ryder mutters, his voice tight with barely contained fury.
You’re not keeping our girl, Nico.
That’s a promise.
The rest of the day is a blur filled with random foods, plans, back-up plans, and contingencies to placate Diablo’s anger. But, honestly, there isn’t much we have that’s going to appease the man. We failed, and if what he said in our first meeting is true, this isn’t going to go well. When the sun fully sets, half of us are falling asleep where we stand, so exhausted we can’t even be bothered to lay down.
My ass is perched on the small chair in the corner, arms crossed and eyes closing when the door creaks open, filtering in the last few rays of the evening sun. The sound pulls all of us into silence. I don’t have to look up to know who’s entered the room. The air shifts, heavy and cold, as Diablo steps inside.
The last time we met him, his presence was intimidating but manageable. Now? Now he feels like death incarnate.
I glance up, catching the flicker of movement as he steps fully into view. He doesn’t speak. His eyes sweep across the room, first landing on me, then Thorne, then Ryder, lingering just a fraction longer on each of us like he’s measuring our worth—or lack of it. Finally, his gaze lands on Paulo.
The moment stretches unbearably long. Paulo stiffens where he stands, his back against the far wall, his hands twitching at his sides like he’s debating whether to speak or run.
Diablo strolls toward him, his gait unhurried, casual even. But the tension in the room skyrockets. I can feel Thorne straighten beside me, his muscles coiled like a spring. Gerardo freezes mid-breath, Claudia’s hands stilling over his leg. None of us move, but the air is alive with the possibility of what might happen next.
When Diablo stops in front of Paulo, he doesn’t say a word. He reaches into his jacket, pulls out his gun, and presses it to Paulo’s temple.
“Wait—” Paulo stammers, but the word barely leaves his mouth before the gunshot rings out.
The crack of the gun is deafening in the small room. Paulo’s body collapses to the floor in a heap, blood pooling around his head. For a moment, none of us can move. The shock is paralyzing, a visceral wave of disbelief that washes over everyone. Diablo turns, sliding the gun back into his jacket as though he didn’t just execute a man in front of us.
The shot snaps us all into action, everyone reaching for a gun. The moment is tense, but Diablo doesn’t even flinch under the pointed aim of six guns and a couple of knives.
I knew it would be bad, but never did I imagine Diablo would just shoot his guy.
“You failed,” he says, his voice calm, measured, even as his words cut deep. His gaze sweeps over us again, lingering on each of us in turn. “I gave you an opportunity to prove yourselves, to fix a problem for me. Instead, you didn’t just fail to remove the thorn—you drove it deeper.”
He steps over Paulo’s body, as if he's nothing more than trash in his way.
“And now,” he continues, “I have to meet with Nico tomorrow, and that’s not a conversation I wanted to have. Not yet.
“You should’ve done better,” Diablo adds, his tone softening slightly, which somehow makes it worse. He’s not yelling, not throwing accusations—he’s just disappointed . “You let the man who caused all of this slip through your fingers.”
He gestures toward Paulo’s body next.
“And him? He’s the reason you’re here in the first place. He introduced you to me. He vouched for you. Your failure is his failure, and now his blood is on your hands.”
The weight of his words sinks into my chest like lead. I don’t look at Thorne or Ryder. I don’t need to see their faces to know they feel it too.
Diablo straightens, adjusting his jacket like he’s brushing the whole situation off his shoulders.
“Get out of my territory tonight,” he says, his voice sharp, commanding. “Leave before you end up like him.”
He doesn’t wait for a response. He doesn’t need to. He turns on his heel and walks toward the door, without a second glance at Paulo’s lifeless form.
When the door closes behind him, the silence is suffocating.
I glance at Thorne, his face a mask of fury barely restrained. Ryder’s jaw is tight, his grip tight on his gun as he slowly lowers it.
“We need to go,” I say, my voice rough.
No one argues.
Gerardo pushes himself to his feet with a grunt, Claudia slipping out from behind him to grab her coat. Thorne doesn’t say a word, just grabs his shirt from where it’s draped over the back of a chair and pulls it on, careful of his stitches. Ryder follows suit, his movements stiff, mechanical.
We leave Paulo’s body where it is.
There’s nothing more we can do for him now.
Just something else for me to feel guilty about.
The cold night air bites at my face as we step outside, the tension from Diablo’s little show still hanging over us like a storm cloud. But it doesn't matter. We're not leaving. Not now. Not when Tori’s out there and Nico’s still breathing.
From the corner of my eye I see Thorne rolling his shoulder like the graze in his bicep doesn’t bother him. His shirt’s back on now, but the faint red stain spreading across the fabric tells me Claudia’s stitches aren’t holding up as well as she thought they would. Ryder stands a few feet away, his hands shoved in his pockets, his jaw clenched like he’s biting down on every curse he wants to let loose. Gerardo’s limping behind us, muttering curses.
Keagan steps forward, practically glowing with amusement, like none of this weighs on him the way it does the rest of us. His lips curve into a smirk as he surveys the group, hands shoved casually into his designer jacket pockets.
“Well,” he says, his voice light and teasing, “This little adventure of ours has been one hell of a mess. But I can’t lie—I’m having too much fun to let it end here.”
I glare at him. “Fun? You think this is fun?”
He shrugs, unbothered by my tone. “Maybe fun isn’t the right word. Let’s call it entertaining . Look, I’ve got a place where we can regroup. Big enough for all of us, secure enough to keep Diablo’s goons from knocking on the front door. What do you say?”
“What place?” Thorne cuts in, his voice low and skeptical.
Keagan grins, his teeth flashing white in the dim streetlight. “My house, of course.”
Gerardo scoffs, leaning heavily against Ryder for support. “Your house ? What, some fancy penthouse in the city?”
Keagan chuckles. “Try a mansion. Armed to the teeth, too. You’ll love it, Rick. Security that’ll make your tech-nerd's dick hard.”
Rick’s head perks up at that, his usual scowl shifting into something closer to curiosity.
“Armed to the teeth, huh?” he asks, his voice cautious but intrigued. “What kind of setup are we talking about?”
“State of the art,” Keagan says, his tone almost smug. “Cameras everywhere, encrypted systems, motion sensors, you name it. Perfect for a bunch of outlaws like us to lay low while we figure out our next move.”
For once, Rick doesn’t fire back with some sarcastic comment. He just nods, like he’s already planning how he’s going to poke around in Keagan’s setup.
I observe Thorne and Ryder, reading their faces. Neither of them looks thrilled at the idea of depending on Keagan, but what other option do we have?
“Fine,” I say, my voice clipped. “Lead the way.”
We all hop into separate vehicles, but I’m the one to take the van. My ass sits on the very chair Paulo was in just hours before. He was once one of ours, one of our guys, and now he’s dead because he stuck his neck out for us and we failed. Again.
The anger is poisonous, eating me alive from the inside out. I have nowhere to place it, no one to blame but myself. So many mistakes were made these last two weeks, and all I can think is that they’re all my fault.
The ride is silent, so damn silent, giving way to my spiraling thoughts as I mindlessly follow Keagan’s car to the next city over. Thirty minutes of looking at his taillights and listening to my guilt-driven thoughts, and Ryder finally says something.
Honestly, this may have been the longest I’ve ever known Ryder to be quiet.
“Jesus. He wasn’t kidding,” he exclaims, leaning over the center console to get a better look of the place from the back seat.
Keagan wasn’t joking about the mansion.
The place sits behind a massive wrought-iron gate, surrounded by high walls and enough cameras to make a bank feel underprotected. The driveway is long and winding, lined with perfectly manicured hedges that probably cost more than my old car.
The house itself is a beast—three stories of sleek, modern architecture, all glass and steel and sharp angles. It’s the kind of place that screams money , the kind of place that doesn’t fit with the life he's been living.
As soon as we step inside, Rick’s practically twitching with excitement, his eyes darting around like a kid in a candy store.
“You weren’t kidding,” he mutters, his fingers itching toward the nearest control panel. “This place is loaded.”
“Try not to short-circuit anything,” Keagan teases, tossing his jacket onto a chair. “It’s all top-of-the-line.”
Rick ignores him, already diving into the system like it’s Christmas morning.
The rest of us spread out, taking in the space. There’s a massive fireplace, a wall of windows looking out onto a pool that’s probably heated, and furniture that looks too expensive to sit on.
Thorne leans against the wall, his face still unreadable, while Ryder paces near the windows.
“We’re not leaving,” I say, breaking the silence. My voice is firm, leaving no room for argument. “I don’t care what Diablo said. We’re not going anywhere without Tori.”
Thorne nods, his gaze hard. “Agreed.”
“Damn right,” Ryder adds, his fists clenching at his sides.
“But if any of you want to go, we won't force you to stay. We know we're asking a lot of you, if you do,” I add, because these people don't owe us anything. They were once part of our gang, but no longer. They've done more than enough already.
They don't know Tori, but for us, leaving her behind isn’t an option.
“Gerardo is useless now, and honestly I can't stay much longer myself,” Claudia speaks first. “I need to get back to my classes, to the life I'm building to get away from this kind of mess.”
I nod, understanding her fully. There's no way any of us would ever hold a grudge. “Thank you for helping.”
“I'm leaving you some surgical glue and first aid things. Use it.” She taps the bag she placed on the table, giving us one last look before she steps out the door with Gerardo at her side. She's his crutch.
“Anyone else?”
“I didn't get to shoot that many people last time, so I'm still here,” Marisol throws in, staring out the window as she watches Claudia.
“I offered my place, so it's pretty obvious I'm still in. And Rick is nerding too much, too hard, to want to leave,” Keagan adds as he taps Rick on the shoulder, gaining a shove from the man.
“I'll be your shadow until she's back with you,” Max swears with a nod.
“Thank you guys. Now we just need a plan,” I say.
“We don’t even know where Nico is,” Ryder points out, his tone sharp with frustration.
“Yet,” Rick says from across the room, his hands flying over a keyboard he’s set up on the coffee table. “Give me a few minutes. If Diablo’s going to meet with Nico, he’s going to have to drive there. And I’m guessing he doesn’t take the subway.”
“You can track him?” I ask, moving closer.
Rick grins, his eyes glued to the screen. “Hell yeah, I can track him. Just need to tap into the street cams and find his car. Once I’ve got that, I can follow his route. We’ll know exactly when and where he’s meeting Nico tomorrow.”
Keagan leans over the back of the couch, watching Rick work. “You’re really good at this, aren’t you?”
Rick smirks. “Better than you’d expect for a guy who spends most of his time dealing with idiots like you.”
Keagan chuckles, clearly entertained, but I’m too focused on Rick’s progress to join in.
Minutes tick by as we wait on a razor's edge. Rick’s fingers fly over the keys, his eyes darting across the screen as he navigates through layers of security and encrypted feeds.
“Gotcha,” he says finally, his voice triumphant.
He swivels the screen around, showing us a live feed of Diablo’s car pulling out of a garage.
“Now all we have to do is keep watch until tomorrow,” Rick says, leaning back with a satisfied grin.
I can't help but notice the way Thorne and Ryder look like they’re ready to move.
“We’ll wait until he gets to the meeting,” I say. “Nico will show and we’ll grab him on the way in, no need for Diablo to be involved.”
“Ooo, I like that. A little added bonus of pissing off Diablo more.” Ryder smiles, his voice full of amusement.
“Nico doesn’t stand a chance,” Thorne nods, his gaze steady. “We’re getting Vic back.”
There’s no hesitation, no doubt.
We’re all in.
As promised, Rick kept tabs on Diablo’s movements even as he slept. When we woke in the morning, Diablo was still home, but around ten he started running errands, and around eleven we decided to tail him, being too impatient to watch from a laptop screen. Keagan and Rick decided to tag along, but Max and Marisol stayed behind. Honestly, we didn’t even need Keagan and Rick, but they wouldn’t take no for an answer.
The car is decent enough, I’ll give Keagan that much. A sleek black sedan, low-key and unremarkable—the kind of ride that wouldn’t turn heads even if it had a circus elephant strapped to the roof. Perfect for the job, but a nightmare for five fully grown guys crammed inside.
Ryder’s wedged in the back next to Rick, his knees practically up to his chest. “This is cozy,” Ryder mutters, twisting to avoid bumping elbows with Rick. “Really gives me that sardine-can feel.”
Keagan smirks from the driver’s seat. “Don’t blame the car, man. Blame your poor spatial awareness. You’re hogging half the seat.”
Ryder raises an eyebrow. “Spatial awareness? I’m not the one who parked like we’re in the middle of a Fast and Furious sequel.”
“Hey!” Keagan glances at him in the rearview mirror. “That was precision parking. You’re just mad because I didn’t scrape the curb like you would’ve.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you an expert now?” Ryder shoots back. “What’s next, Keagan’s Tips for Better Driving? Volume One: Ignore All Basic Laws of Traffic?”
“I’ll have you know, I’ve only gotten three tickets this year,” Keagan says proudly.
“That’s not a brag,” Ryder deadpans. “That’s a cry for help.”
Keagan groans, gripping the steering wheel like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because I’m charming,” Ryder says without missing a beat.
“Yeah, as charming as a splinter,” Keagan mutters.
“You love it,” Ryder shoots back, leaning into his seat with a smug grin.
I can’t help the small smirk tugging at my lips. Their banter is ridiculous, sure, but it’s exactly what we need right now. The tension in the car lessens, the heaviness that’s been clinging to us since Diablo’s little display of power yesterday, thinning just enough to let us breathe.
“Can you two focus?” Thorne growls from the front passenger seat, his voice cutting through their back-and-forth like a knife. He’s leaning forward slightly, his good arm resting on the console while his other hangs stiff at his side.
Ryder leans forward, mockingly serious. “Thorne, you need to learn to be less grumpy.”
Thorne turns his head slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Say that again.”
“Alright, alright,” Keagan cuts in, laughing. “Let’s not test Thorne’s patience when we’re stuck in a car together, yeah? I’d like to survive long enough to see 30.”
Rick doesn’t even look up from his laptop as he mutters, “No promises.”
Ryder throws his hands up in fake surrender. “Fine. I’ll save my wisdom for later.”
Keagan rolls his eyes. “Thank God.”
Despite myself, I let out a low chuckle. It’s stupid, really, but that’s the thing about Ryder and Keagan—they know how to lighten the mood, even when everything else feels like it’s about to go to hell.
The laughter dies down when Rick freezes, his hands hovering over the keyboard.
“What is it?” I ask, leaning forward to see what’s got his attention.
Rick doesn’t answer, just nods toward the windshield.
My gaze follows his, and there they are. Nico, striding toward the restaurant like he owns the place, and next to him—
Tori .
Time stops.
She’s wearing a green dress, the kind that shimmers faintly in the sunlight. Her hand is looped through Nico’s arm, and she’s smiling, but it’s not real. Her eyes betray her, cold and hard, and that smile—it’s the same fake one we’ve all seen before.
“She’s here,” Thorne says, his voice low and dangerous. My eyes lock on Tori as she and Nico disappear inside the restaurant.
We sit in stunned silence. It's Ryder who's first to move, jumping over Rick and out of the car before we can stop him.
Fuck it. We're getting her back now .