Chapter 37 Storm
Storm
I get to the lobby just in time to see Phoenix shove Maverick back, her little hands on his chest, to keep him from rearranging a senator’s face. Jesus Christ, now I understand why Atticus wanted us down here.
My pulse spikes, not because of the fight brewing but because I recognize the bastard instantly. Langford. Senator Fucking Langford. I’d know his face anywhere, and it’s not because I give a fuck about politics.
That fucker is the one who, years ago, cornered Phoenix at the pool when she was barely fifteen. She was tanning in a tiny white bikini that haunted my every thought that entire summer.
He was some skeevy old fucker here for a charity weekend. He had leaned too close, tried to make his move, and caught a fist to the nose for his trouble.
Phoenix handled it herself—like she always did back then—before she lost some of her spark, a spark I am determined to relight—but I never forgot the incident.
Hell, I still have the video. The CCTV caught it. It was the first time Atticus got into the security footage, and I got him to send it to me afterward.
For years it was my favorite clip to watch alone at night while thinking about her. Though I’d never admit that part out loud. I stopped watching once I was older and the difference in our ages—mine then and hers at the time of the video—felt…wrong.
But I never deleted it. Sometimes you keep your bullets polished, just in case you need them.
Maverick’s vibrating with rage, and Phoenix looks like she’s seconds from blowing as Conrad walks away with the senator.
Perfect timing. I’ll give them a few minutes’ head start.
I slip in, in the meantime, and clap a hand on Mav’s shoulder.
“Not here,” I murmur. Then, I loop my other arm through Phoenix’s, pulling her tight against me. “Trust me,” I whisper in her ear, letting my lips brush close enough to feel her shiver. “This is going to be fun.”
I steer us toward Conrad’s office, dragging a trail of tension in our wake.
“Why—” Mav starts, and Atticus follows, with a similar confused look on his face.
“Because you’re going to want to see this.”
The conference room Con takes Langford to is all polished marble and panoramic windows looking out over the casino boat, its lights glittering off the river below. The AC hums a quiet threat; the glass holds our reflections like alibis.
Conrad is in his seat at the head of the table; the senator is on his feet ranting.
Atticus stays lurking near the corner, eyes dark with calculations. Maverick takes a standing position, arms crossed, jaw ticking. And me? I guide Phoenix to the table, and then I sit right beside her, stretch out, and drop my hand casually onto her thigh under the table.
At first, it’s just to keep her grounded, to keep her from exploding at the wrong second. But once I feel her warmth, I decide to leave it there.
Langford launches into his performance. “This establishment is a den of inequity,” he bellows. “A whorehouse masquerading as a resort. Drugs, corruption, my wife nearly killed—”
I flick through my phone with my free hand, bored.
Tap, scroll, swipe. Tap.
Phoenix’s leg tenses under my palm, but I just squeeze, a lazy, silent command.
Not yet.
He keeps going. “I’ll shut this place down. Every board in the state will hear of this filth. Your so-called luxury palace is nothing more than—”
Finally, he stops to breathe. I seize the pause.
“Tell me, Senator,” I drawl, tilting my head.
“Why was your wife buying discount Botox from strangers in the first place? Why would she risk her pretty face with garage-grade knockoffs?” I let my gaze cut to Phoenix, then back to him.
“And how long has she had that fentanyl problem? Because from where I’m sitting, none of our drug issues started until she checked in.
Could be correlation, sure. Or coincidence. But I doubt it.”
Langford sputters, blotchy red crawling up his neck. His mouth opens, ready to spit venom. That’s when I press play.
The video fills the silence.
Fifteen-year-old Phoenix, fists up, eyes blazing. Langford’s greasy smile leaning in. And then—bam—her small fist connects with his jaw, sending him stumbling back with all the dignity of a clown slipping on a banana peel.
His eyes widen like I just dug up his coffin. He looks at Phoenix, and his face goes slack; he hadn’t even remembered her.
“I already paid for that,” he hisses, his voice low and panicked.
“Funny,” Phoenix mutters beside me, sharp as a tack. “I never got a check.”
I smirk and lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Here’s what’s going to happen, Senator. You’re going to collect your wife. You’re going to leave. And we’re never going to see either of you again.”
He blusters, but I keep going, quiet and sharp enough to cut glass.
“In exchange, I will keep this video private. Along with the others. You remember them, right? The blackjack dealer you couldn’t keep your hands off.
The two waitresses you groped in the elevator.
And wasn’t there one with a prostitute of questionable age?
My cloud storage is very organized; I’m sure I’ll find it.
The news loves doing pieces on local celebrities. ”
He jerks, pride and fear warring for dominance. “This is extortion,” he says, but it’s thin.
“It’s memory care,” I say, bored. “Timestamped, chain-of-custody CCTV. You know how juries love candids. Now—take the lifeline.”
Conrad doesn’t smile; he doesn’t need to. “You have a press conference at two,” he says mildly, like he knows the man’s schedule better than his chief of staff. “Walk out in a dignified fashion, and no one hears about a pool deck almost a decade ago.”
Atticus speaks for the first time, voice like a scalpel. “Also, check your inbox, Senator. You’ll find a draft statement you’ll want to use. Words like ‘appalled’ and ‘grateful for Titan-Wynn’s cooperation.’”
He’s already typed it; I don’t have to look to know.
Langford swallows the hook. “Fine.”
“Good boy,” I say, mocking his own smug tone back at him. “Now fetch your wife and get the fuck out of our hotel.”
He storms out, muttering curses under his breath. His staffers scuttle after him like they’re collecting breadcrumbs.
When the door shuts, Phoenix finally exhales. She turns to me, eyes wide. “You…you just ended it. Like that.”
“The Langford situation is handled,” I say, leaning back in my chair, finally pulling my hand from her thigh. “Assuming her husband can keep her on a leash.”
She shakes her head like she can’t believe it. “You don’t even like playing diplomat.”
I grin, wolfish. “Doesn’t mean I can’t. Cold detachment, sweetheart. Sometimes it’s the only way to win.”
Conrad clears his throat. “One problem down.”
Atticus’s jaw tightens. “Ninety-eight more to go.”
And he’s right. The Langfords were small fish. But at least the lobby won’t be burning down tonight, and we can stop dealing with her temper tantrums and focus on the real threat.
I glance at Phoenix. She’s still staring at me like I’m a stranger she wants to kiss and slap at the same time. I know the look; I’ve seen it in mirrors.
“Hey,” I murmur, low enough for just her. “You okay?”
Her lashes flicker. “Yes.” A beat. “And no.” Another beat. “Thank you.”
I nod once. I don’t say the thing I’m thinking—that I’ve wanted to ruin that man since the day he made a child flinch.
Con stands, palms flat on the table. “Atticus, push the Langford statement live to our PR team. Coordinate with legal. Maverick, walk the floor; make sure the staff knows to route all press inquiries to PR only. Storm—”
“—I’ll walk the spa back-of-house again,” I finish. “If the Savannah crew planted cameras in our suite, they didn’t stop there. The ‘calming’ music’s covering a lot of sins.”
Atticus’s eyes cut to me. “I also need your copy of that pool deck footage for the vault.”
“You’ll get a copy,” I say. “The original stays with me.” I don’t blink, and he doesn’t push. We both know why. Leverage is survival, even among friends and allies.
Phoenix rises, smoothing her skirt. Her hand brushes my knuckles, a small, private thanks she won’t say out loud in front of the others. It’s enough.
Con’s phone buzzes; he glances at the screen, jaw ticking once. “The senator’s chief of staff wants a sit-down later this week. I’ll handle it.” He pockets the phone and looks to Phoenix. “You did good at the desk, earlier.”
She blinks, surprised at the praise. “Thank you.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he says, but the tone lands softer than his words.
The praise lands. My spine goes a little straighter before I can stop it. God, I hate that part of me still reaches for Conrad’s approval like a plant reaching for the sun through a cracked window. I’ve wanted this for years—one clean nod that says I did something right and he saw it.
But even as relief spreads, the other truth slides in beside it: he’s testing me.
I can feel the yardstick in his gaze, the quiet calculation—how far will she go, how long will she last. The warmth of his approval tangles with the prickle of being measured, and the knot they make in my chest is its own kind of heat.
I file it away, because it matters. Wanting the nod doesn’t mean I’ll dance for it. Wanting it and knowing I’m under a microscope at the same time—that’s the charge I’ll burn the next time the ground shifts under my feet and I have to choose who I am.
Atticus checks his watch—an old habit, not a need. “We still have Danner to handle. If he’s the supply valve, he’ll feel the pressure from Langford vanishing. He’ll make a mistake.”
“Good,” I say. “Let’s make his mistake our winning hand.”
Maverick drags a hand through his hair. “Before or after I apologize to the marble for almost redecorating it with a senator’s face?”
“After,” Phoenix says, dry. “The marble didn’t deserve that.” The tiny edge of humor looks good on her. It makes it look like the girl from the pool deck grew claws again.
We break. Conrad peels off to shepherd the senator toward the exit with PR velvet ropes and security distance. Atticus drifts toward the server closet like a tide moving out. Maverick heads to the pit with a smile he doesn’t mean. I angle Phoenix toward the door.
In the hall, quiet for three steps, she tugs my sleeve. “Storm.”
“Mm.”
“Don’t…use that video unless you have to.”
I meet her eyes. “I had to today.”
She nods, once. “I know.”
I should say I’m sorry. I’m not. I’m sorry there was a need.
In the corridor outside the elevators, a cocktail server I recognize—Lena, cat-eye liner and ballet-flat glide—comes around the corner with an empty tray. Her gaze skims Phoenix’s oxblood leather, the dagger-heeled pumps, the red mouth, then flicks to her face.
I brace myself. Girls can be catty, and here, where the Titans are perceived as a prize to be won…they’re exceptionally so.
I’m surprised when Lena simply gives Phoenix a small, deliberate nod—like a salute—and a genuine, slight small. There’s no smirk, no gossip-girl once-over.
Beside me, I feel Phoenix’s entire body relax. She returns the gesture—a smile, and her chin tipped in acknowledgement. No words pass between them. But when Lena moves on, I feel something shift, and maybe click into place.
Maybe…just possibly…the staff are starting to clock Phoenix as someone who matters, someone who means something to us.
That’s important, because she is.
Downstairs, PR flanks the lobby with warm bodies and warmer smiles. Through the glass, I watch Langford steer Mrs. Hat toward the doors. The bachelorette girls clap like a flight just landed. Security pretends not to smirk. The doors whisper shut.
Atticus’s text hits the group thread like a bomb.
Atticus
Langford departing. Statement queued. Danner’s cell pinged in two locations in the last hour—harbor district and midtown. Choosing a tail now.
I text back, ready.
Storm
I vote harbor. Midtown’s a decoy. He’ll hug the river when he’s scared.
Con
Do not engage until we have a room and know there are no cameras.
Atticus
I know a room.
Phoenix
I know a way to get him into it.
Mav
You two can’t have all the fun.
I look at her. She doesn’t look at me—she looks at the horizon beyond the glass. The river is flat as a held breath.
“Careful,” I say.
“I will be,” she answers, and I believe her just enough to hate the risk.
One issue off the board, but the bigger war is still waiting. And Phoenix? She’s looking at me like she just learned I can play more than one game.
Oh, little angel, there are so many games we are going to play.