Chapter 15 Carver
I jog across the cracked asphalt of the Sports Arena parking lot, weaving through rows of cars until I spot Jackson’s truck idling near the exit. Axel’s in the passenger seat, holding his phone and studying the screen.
“Is Raven okay?” he asks.
“She’s good. She’s coming to the clubhouse tomorrow night for a party,” I tell him, unable to keep the grin off my face. “What’ve we got?”
Axel doesn’t look up. “Both trackers are active. The toolbox and the cash box are still together. They’re moving east.”
Jackson pulls out into traffic, merging smoothly.
Axel taps the screen, zooming in. “They just pulled into a fast-food place. McDonald's.”
We roll past a few minutes later, slow enough to spot the beat-up truck Axel flagged earlier. The brother is driving while the sister is in the passenger seat. They don’t notice us as they pull back out into traffic and continue heading east.
We follow at a distance, letting a couple of cars stay between us. The city thins out, buildings giving way to open space and trees. My gut tightens.
“Where the hell are they going?” I ask.
“Chollas Lake Park,” Axel answers. “They’re turning in now.”
Jackson slows as we approach the entrance. The truck ahead disappears down a narrow access road, half-hidden by overgrown brush.
“Shit,” Jackson mutters, pulling over near the edge of the park. He kills the engine, and the silence settles around us, broken only by distant birds and the hum of wind through trees.
I stare down the road where the truck vanished. “I was expecting a warehouse or a storage unit. Something like that.”
“Yeah,” Jackson says, scratching his jaw. “Not a damn park.”
Axel finally looks up. “Signal’s still strong. They stopped moving.”
Jackson glances toward the tree line. “We could hike in. Get eyes on them.”
I shake my head slowly, already piecing it together. “Too exposed. If they’re using that road, they know the area. We go stomping in there, we risk spooking them.”
Jackson turns in his seat to face me. “Then what?”
“We need more bodies. I want to approach them with an army. They need to start talking, and the only way to make that happen is to put the fear of the Demon Dawgs into them. Axel, you and Jackson head back to the work site. Before you go, contact Flame and see if he can find someone to replace me on guard duty.”
“What are you going to do?” Jackson asks.
“Call in for reinforcements. I’ll get Ranch and Torch to join me. I’ll also call Chaos and see if he’s up for a road trip out here.”
“I can stay,” Jackson offers.
I consider his offer and shrug. “If you want to stay, we could use you. It might be a good idea to have a civilian with us.”
Pulling out my phone, I call Ranch and tell him where we are. “I need you to grab Torch, and whoever else you can get to join us here. I also need someone to come pick up Axel and cover guard duty on the mini mall.”
I spot Axel gesturing at me while he’s talking on the phone. He pulls the phone away from his ear and calls out. “I got it covered. Scar’s picking me up.”
I relay the information to Ranch and end the call after getting his ETA.
Thirty minutes later, Ranch pulls up along with Torch.
He isn’t alone. Chaos, Babe, and Dante are with them.
Scar drives up behind them and parks. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Dante came with them; however, I am surprised when Maestro climbs out of Scar’s SUV.
While the others joined us, Maestro retreats to the back of the SUV.
“What have we got?” Dante asks.
“They drove into the woods via that access road,” I explain. “The trackers we slipped into their cashbox and toolbox are showing that they’re about two miles inside.”
“Maestro,” Dante says, turning to our tech-savvy prospect. “Will that reach?”
Maestro steps up, holding a small drone in his right hand. Axel comes with him. Maestro is studying the app on Axel’s phone that he used to track our prey. “Yeah, no problem. I have a feel for the area they're in. I should be able to find them and keep an eye on them.”
A few seconds later, Maestro has the drone up in the air and zipping over the treeline. It takes him less than ten minutes to locate the target. Dante and I stand behind him to study the footage on the iPad.
“I spot four people,” Maestro says. “Two look to be a few years older than the other two. Looks like they’re eating.”
“Yeah, they stopped for burgers on the way back here,” Axel chimes in.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Dante asks. “Maestro, you can either stay here or follow along behind. We need you to keep an eye on them in case they hear us coming and bolt.”
“Got it,” Maestro says.
“Do you want Axel and me to stay and help, or head over to the site?” Scar asks.
“Go ahead and head over,” I tell him. “We’re pretty sure these are the thieves, but if we’re wrong, I don’t want to leave the site unprotected.”
Scar nods, before clasping Axel on the shoulder and propelling him to the SUV.
We don’t wait for them to leave before we move down the track.
We have Maestro in our ears. After walking for a few minutes, he directs us to enter the woods and circle the encampment.
We pick our way through the trees, moving as silently as we can so they don’t hear us coming.
Maestro has us in his view, so he gives us the go-ahead to enter.
I step into the clearing with the rest of the Demon Dawgs fanning out behind me, boots crunching over dry leaves and scattered pine needles.
The place looks exactly like I expected—rough, makeshift, and exposed.
Their battered pickup sits off to one side, half-hidden under a tarp.
A ring of blackened stones marks their fire pit.
Blankets, crates, and a couple of salvaged toolboxes are spread out beneath the trees like they’re trying to pretend this is a home.
It isn’t.
The four kids huddle together near the fire pit when they realize they’re surrounded.
Two boys, two girls. The oldest boy steps slightly in front of the others, shoulders squared like he’s ready to take whatever’s coming.
He can’t be more than sixteen, but there’s something older in his eyes—something hard-earned.
Dante walks forward, slow and steady, his presence pulling all the attention without him raising his voice. He doesn’t loom. Doesn’t threaten. But nobody misses who’s in charge.
“Easy,” he says, calm as ever. “Nobody’s here to hurt you.”
The oldest boy doesn’t relax, but he doesn’t run either. That alone tells me everything I need to know about him.
Dante stops a few feet away. “Names.”
There’s a beat. The boy hesitates, then lifts his chin.
“I’m Marcus. That’s Lily.” He nods to the girl beside him—fifteen maybe, her jaw tight, eyes flicking between us like she’s tracking every move.
“Eli.” The younger boy, about ten, clutches a piece of rebar like it’s a weapon.
“And that’s Mia.” The little one peeks out from behind Lily, all big eyes and tangled hair. She can’t be older than eight.
Dante nods once, like he’s committing each name to memory. “Marcus,” he says, voice even. “You wanna tell me why you and your family are living out here?”
Marcus swallows, but he doesn’t look away. “We’re fine.”
I almost snort. They’re anything but.
Dante doesn’t push. Just waits.
Silence stretches until it snaps.
“Our dad died,” Marcus says finally. The words come out flat, practiced. “After that… things got bad.”
Lily’s hand tightens around Mia’s shoulder.
Dante’s gaze sharpens, but his tone stays level. “Bad how?”
Marcus hesitates again. This time it’s different. His jaw locks, and I see it—the line he doesn’t want to cross.
“His new wife had plans,” Marcus says instead. “For us.”
That’s it. That’s all.
But it’s enough.
A cold weight settles in my gut. I glance at Dante, and I know he hears it too. Knows exactly what Marcus isn’t saying. There’s a kind of evil you don’t need spelled out.
Eli shifts beside his brother, gripping that piece of metal tighter. “We can take care of ourselves,” he mutters, trying to sound tough. “We don’t need—”
“You’ve been hitting my job sites,” I cut in, stepping forward. My voice isn’t as calm as Dante’s. “Tools, materials. That your idea, Marcus?”
Marcus nods once. No apology. No excuse. “We needed food.”
“Selling the tools?” I ask.
“Some,” Lily answers quietly. “Trading, too.”
Dante exhales slowly, dragging a hand over his chin as he looks around their camp. His eyes linger on the thin blankets and the empty food containers.
Then he looks back at Marcus.
“You did what you had to,” Dante says. “I get that.”
Marcus’s shoulders stiffen, like he doesn’t trust what he’s hearing.
Dante takes another step closer, closing the distance just enough. “But stealing from us?” He pauses, letting the weight of it hang. “That shit stops now. Got it?”
The clearing goes quiet again, the trees pressing in around us.
I shift my stance, watching Marcus as he squares up all over again, ready to fight for them if he has to.
Yeah.
The kid’s been carrying the weight of three others for too long. And something tells me Dante’s about to change that.