Chapter Six The Woman Behind the Knife #2
Makayla continued, “Selene likes control. The live took control. The full video took control. Maribelle texting took control. That statement is her trying to put a lid on a pot that already boiled over.”
Trevon nodded once. “Agreed.”
Jarvis moved to the laptop and pulled up Old Briar’s lower floor plan. “Then we use that.”
The screen filled with a faded architectural layout. Makayla leaned in automatically. Buildings spoke a language she understood. Walls, corridors, stairs, exits, rooms pretending to be dead ends when they were not.
Old Briar’s lower wing had two main entrances, one ambulance bay, one service tunnel, two stairwells, and a utility corridor that wrapped behind the old surgical storage rooms.
Makayla pointed to the service tunnel. “This connects to what?”
Jarvis looked. “Old laundry route.”
“Still open?”
“Unknown.”
Trevon said, “I can send two men to check.”
Makayla pointed to another line. “And this?”
“Records corridor,” Jarvis said. “Locked from both ends.”
“Does it have ceiling access?”
Jarvis looked at her, then closer at the plan.
Trevon leaned over. “Old hospital. It might.”
Makayla tapped the screen. “Calia wants Jarvis through the lower wing because that’s the emotional stage. Orin’s building. Maribelle. The child. She’ll expect him to come straight.”
Jarvis looked at her. “And you suggest?”
“You let her see what she expects.”
“No,” Trevon said immediately.
Jarvis looked at him.
Trevon held firm. “She wants you inside. Selene is already setting a narrative that you’re forcing witnesses. Calia could have cameras staged. One wrong angle and it looks like you threatened Maribelle or took the boy.”
Makayla nodded. “Exactly.”
Jarvis stared at her. “Then why did you say let her see what she expects?”
Makayla looked at the plan. “Because she doesn’t need you. She needs the shape of you.”
For the first time since the message came, Jarvis’s expression shifted toward interest.
Makayla turned to Trevon. “You got somebody his build?”
Trevon’s eyes sharpened. “Darius.”
“Absolutely not,” Jarvis said.
Makayla and Trevon both looked at him.
Jarvis corrected himself with irritation. “His name is Darrow. And no.”
Makayla lifted one brow. “Your security guard named Darrow?”
“Yes.”
“Fresh.”
“Focus.”
“I am focused. Darrow wears your coat. Walks through the main entrance. Cameras catch the silhouette. Meanwhile, you come through the service tunnel with Trevon.”
Jarvis said, “And you stay here.”
Makayla gave him a flat look. “That was cute.”
“No.”
“I know the plan.”
“You can explain it from here.”
“And I can also read that floor plan better than half your men.”
Jarvis stepped closer. “Old Briar is not a dock. It’s my father’s graveyard with lights.”
“Then stop trying to walk into it blind.”
His voice lowered. “I am not taking you there.”
Makayla stepped closer too, anger rising. “You don’t take me anywhere. I choose.”
“You think choice makes danger noble?”
“No. I think men who hide women ‘for their own good’ keep handing women rooms with no exits.”
The words hit the whole foyer.
Jarvis’s face closed.
Makayla knew she had cut deep.
She also knew she was right.
Maribelle had hidden for years.
Amira had been silenced for years.
Makayla had nearly been forced into a confession because Selene thought every woman could be cornered, edited, or locked away.
She was done with rooms chosen by other people.
Jarvis looked at the floor for half a second.
Then back at her.
“You stay behind me,” he said.
Makayla exhaled. “I stay where the plan needs me.”
“Makayla.”
“Jarvis.”
Auntie Zella lifted her sweet tea. “Y’all gon’ argue at the hospital too, or can we pack snacks?”
Nobody answered.
Zella looked at Trevon. “You seem practical. You got snacks in these tactical cars?”
Trevon blinked. “Protein bars.”
“That is punishment, not snacks.”
Makayla almost laughed despite everything.
The almost-laugh saved her from shaking.
Thirty minutes later, they were in motion.
Auntie Zella stayed at the residence with Vasha, Renzo, two guards, and a secure line to Amira. Zella had argued until Makayla reminded her that Amira needed someone steady on the phone if things went bad.
That worked.
Barely.
Before Makayla left, Zella grabbed her by both shoulders.
“Come back with all your limbs and most of your attitude,” she said.
Makayla hugged her. “Most?”
“All of it too heavy.”
Vasha stood near the stairs, eyes swollen, arms wrapped around herself. “Makayla?”
Makayla turned.
Vasha swallowed. “I know I don’t deserve to say this, but be careful.”
Makayla looked at her former friend.
Former.
Maybe.
Maybe not forever.
“Don’t answer unknown numbers,” Makayla said.
Vasha nodded quickly. “I won’t.”
“And don’t cry so hard you miss something.”
Vasha’s mouth trembled. “Okay.”
Makayla left before her heart softened too much.
Now she sat in the back of another dark SUV beside Jarvis, wearing a black jacket Trevon had given her to cover her torn sleeve. Her ankle throbbed. Her arm burned. Her body was tired in places she did not know could hold exhaustion.
Jarvis sat close enough for his knee to brush hers when the vehicle turned.
Neither of them spoke for the first five minutes.
Then he said, “You were right.”
Makayla looked at him. “About what?”
“Rooms with no exits.”
She studied his profile.
His eyes were on the road ahead, but his mind was somewhere older.
“Maribelle asked me to get her out,” he said. “I did that. Then I decided distance was protection because it kept my father’s people from finding her. I never asked what protection felt like after I disappeared too.”
Makayla was quiet.
Jarvis continued, “Maybe she needed me gone. Maybe she needed me to check. I made the choice for both of us because it was safer.”
“Safer for who?” Makayla asked softly.
His jaw tightened. “That is the question.”
Makayla leaned back against the seat.
The car hummed under them.
“I don’t think you meant to abandon her,” she said.
He looked at her then.
“I also don’t think meaning well fixes impact.”
His eyes held hers.
“No,” he said. “It doesn’t.”
The truth sat between them.
Heavy, but clean.
Jarvis looked down at her hand resting on the seat. For a moment, Makayla thought he might take it.
He didn’t.
That choice felt louder than touching.
Old Briar Hospital rose from the edge of Morrow Bay like a bad memory built from brick.
It had once been white stone and tall windows, something grand enough to make sick people believe healing happened there. Now it looked gray with age, half of its windows boarded, ivy crawling up one side like nature was trying to pull it into the ground.
A faded sign near the entrance read:
brIAR MEDICAL PAVILION
Someone had spray-painted over the word medical.
Now it just said:
brIAR
Makayla stared at it through the windshield.
“This place looks like it eats people,” she said.
Jarvis checked the side mirror. “It has.”
She looked at him.
He did not explain.
Darrow arrived in the first SUV, dressed in Jarvis’s black coat, head lowered, walking with just enough of Jarvis’s pace to fool a camera from a distance. Two guards flanked him.
Makayla watched him approach the lower wing entrance.
Her pulse beat hard.
Trevon’s voice came through the comm in her ear. “Decoy visible. No movement on east windows.”
Jarvis touched his earpiece. “Service tunnel?”
“Two men confirmed open. Dirty, but passable.”
Makayla muttered, “That’s every bad idea’s favorite description.”
Jarvis glanced at her. “Stay close.”
“For now.”
He gave her a look.
She gave it back.
They moved through the service side with Trevon and two guards. The tunnel smelled damp and metallic, with old pipes running overhead. Water dripped somewhere in the dark. Makayla’s shoes stuck slightly to the floor.
The building groaned around them.
She told herself buildings made noise.
Old materials expanded. Pipes shifted. Wind pressed through cracks.
Still, Old Briar felt occupied.
Not with ghosts.
With secrets.
They reached a utility door at the end of the tunnel. Trevon opened it slowly, weapon low at his side. Beyond it stretched a narrow corridor lit by emergency lights.
Red.
Dim.
Ugly.
Makayla whispered, “Of course the lights are red.”
Jarvis looked back. “You always comment during danger?”
“It keeps me from screaming.”
His eyes softened for half a second.
Then Trevon held up a fist.
Stop.
Voices came from around the corner.
A woman.
Calia.
Makayla knew that polished poison anywhere.
“You made him soft,” Calia said.
Another woman answered, voice strained but steady.
“No. I made him honest for five minutes. There’s a difference.”
Maribelle.
Jarvis’s whole body locked.
Makayla reached out and touched his wrist.
Barely.
Enough to hold him in place.
Calia laughed softly. “You still defend him? After all these years?”
Maribelle said, “I defend the truth. Jarvis got me out.”
“And left you.”
“He gave me a choice.”
“Did he?” Calia asked. “Or did he give you money, a new name, and the kind of silence men call safety when they’re tired of looking at what happened?”
Jarvis’s eyes closed for half a beat.
Makayla’s chest tightened.
Calia was good.
That was the worst part. She knew where to cut because she used blades sharpened from half-truths.
A boy’s voice came next.
Small.
Scared.
“Mama.”
Jarvis moved.
Makayla caught his arm again.
Trevon shook his head once.
Not yet.
Maribelle’s voice softened. “It’s okay, Niko. Keep your eyes on me.”
Niko.
Makayla felt the name land.
A child in the middle of old sins.
Calia’s heels clicked slowly. “You named him like a normal boy. That’s sweet.”
Maribelle’s voice hardened. “Say what you want from me.”
“I want the ledger.”
“I don’t have it.”
Calia’s voice sharpened. “Liar.”
“I had copies. Jarvis had copies. Orin had the original. Whatever you think I carried out, I didn’t.”
Calia was silent for a moment.
Then she said, “Selene thinks different.”
“Selene thinks everyone is hiding something because she is.”
That one made Makayla smile a little.
Maribelle had teeth.
Good.