Make Them Obey (Pretty Deadly Things #5)

Chapter 1

ONE

POE

The first time I hear my sister cry through a cheap burner phone, everything inside me just... stops.

The world keeps spinning like an asshole.

Traffic hisses past the hospital windows, tires slicing through puddles from the earlier rain.

The elevator dings somewhere behind me, cheerful and oblivious.

The heart monitor on the gurney I stole beeps steady, like it's mocking me for playing monster tonight.

I’ve kidnapped someone because they’ve kidnapped my sister. It’s fair in my eyes.

The noise in my head—the constant stream of code, exit routes, contingency plans, all the bullshit that keeps me one step ahead—snaps off like someone yanked the plug. Because that sound? Enley's voice cracking on the other end? That's real. That's the only thing that matters right now.

“Poe,” she whispers, and it’s all wrong. Too thin. Too careful. Like she’s learned exactly how much air she’s allowed to use in whatever hellhole they’ve got her in.

My knuckles go white around the gurney handle. Fluorescent lights buzz overhead, turning everything into harsh edges and sick yellow tones.

“Enley,” I say back, keeping my voice low and even. Control. That’s all I’ve got left, so I wrap it around me like armor.

A man laughs on the line. It’s this quiet, confident rumble that says he doesn’t need to yell to own the room. “Sweet,” he drawls. “You can still do gentle. That’s nice.”

My stomach twists hard, like someone jammed a fist in there and squeezed.

The phone feels slick against my ear, sweat making the cheap plastic slip. I keep pushing the gurney down this service corridor I have zero business being in, wheels squeaking softly. A big red sign screams AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY. Yeah, well, fuck that. I’m not authorized for jack shit tonight.

Tonight I’m a thief.

Tonight I’m a traitor to the only people who’ve ever had my back.

Tonight I’m whatever these bastards need me to be if it means Enley walks out of this alive.

“What do you want?” I ask, forcing the words out calm even though my pulse is hammering like a drum solo.

“Don’t act brand new,” the voice snaps back, lazy but sharp underneath. “You know exactly what we want. You already started the game.”

I glance down at the guy strapped to the gurney.

Salem Bloom’s estranged father. Arthur Charles.

He looks like hell—gray around the mouth, bruises blooming purple and black across his face, sedated to the gills but still breathing.

One of the IV lines swings gently with every push.

The hospital bracelet on his wrist catches the light, mocking me with his real name.

I hate this part. The part where I have to treat innocent people like chess pieces. Where I have to drag some poor bastard into my mess because Goldenbell decided he’s useful.

A door swings open at the end of the corridor.

A tired-looking nurse steps out, chart in hand, eyes half-closed like she’s running on fumes and bad coffee.

I angle the gurney quick into a shadowed alcove, tucking myself behind a big linen cart.

My heart gives one hard thud, reminding me I’m still breathing.

She doesn’t spot me. Just walks past, shoes squeaking on the tile. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“What did you do to her?” I whisper into the phone, rage and fear mixing into something ugly in my chest.

The guy sighs like I’m the most exhausting thing he’s dealt with all week. “Nothing she didn’t earn. Nothing she won’t survive. That part’s up to you, Poe.”

Enley makes this tiny sound in the background—like she’s biting back a sob, trying so hard not to make noise. It guts me.

My jaw locks so tight my teeth ache. “Let me talk to her. Now.”

“You are talking to her,” he says, voice going sharp. “Listen up, Poe. You were supposed to stay useful. Stay calm. Keep your pretty little vigilante buddies chasing their tails like good dogs. Then you got all sentimental at that warehouse. Now everybody’s awake and sniffing around.”

Sentimental.

The word lands like a slap. I almost laugh, bitter and hollow. If these assholes knew how little sentiment I have left in me, they’d be embarrassed for even using the word. I’ve buried that shit deep.

“What do you want me to do?” I repeat, pushing the gurney forward again once the coast is clear.

“Finish it,” he says simply. “Complete the misdirection. Pull them away from Goldenbell. Tear Maddox Security apart from the inside. Make them fight each other. Make them doubt every single person on their team. Keep their eyes off our shipments and our buyers.”

Shipments. Buyers.

The words hit like ice water down my spine. My stomach rolls with nausea that has nothing to do with the antiseptic hospital stink.

“You already pinned the hack on me,” I say, voice flat as I can make it.

“Good boy. That part worked perfectly.”

Of course it did. They want me wearing the blame like a shiny new collar. They want my best friend, Ozzy looking at his own crew sideways. They want the whole Maddox machine eating itself alive from the inside out.

They want doubt. The one thing no team survives.

My fingers curl tighter around the gurney handle until the metal bites into my palm. “If my friends die because of this, you die.”

He laughs again, softer this time, almost amused. “Your friends are still breathing because I allow it. Your sister is still breathing because you’re obeying. Don’t get it twisted, kid. Leverage isn’t friendship.”

Enley whispers again, barely there. “Poe… please.”

That word slices right through me. Please. From my little sister who used to beg me to play video games with her until three in the morning.

My throat tightens until it hurts to swallow. “En, listen to me. Stay quiet. Stay steady. Do not fight back unless you see a real opening you’re one hundred percent sure of. You hear me?”

She makes this tiny, broken sound that I know means she’s nodding even if she can’t say it.

The man tuts like he’s scolding a puppy. “Aw. Protective big brother. Cute. Here’s the deal. You deliver the package. You follow every instruction to the letter. You keep Maddox looking at you instead of us. Then maybe you get your sister back.”

My pulse jumps hard. “When?”

“When we’re satisfied.” He pauses, letting it hang. “Oh, and Poe? Don’t get clever. Try to play hero and Enley’s throat becomes a very public lesson.”

Heat floods my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut for one hard second because if I don’t, I’ll do something stupid right here in this hallway. Stupid gets you dead. Dead men don’t save their sisters.

“What package?” I manage, voice rough as gravel.

“The man on your gurney. We’re not done with dear old Arthur yet. He knows things. Serafina wants to look him in the eye while she decides if he gets to keep breathing.”

Serafina.

The name drops like a lead weight in my gut. I’ve never met her face to face. Only whispers. Shadows. Trails that go ice cold the second I get close. I’m damn good at finding people. Serafina? She’s a ghost who makes ghosts look sloppy.

“You’re bringing me to her?” I ask quietly.

“Maybe.”

My grip tightens until the gurney creaks. “If I do this, my sister walks free.”

“Sure,” he says, way too casual. “And maybe you get to keep your hands. Everybody wins.”

Enley’s breathing comes shaky through the phone. Part of me—the sick, broken part that still tries to joke when the world’s on fire—wants to crack something dumb like “I’m pretty attached to my hands, thanks.” But I know better. Jokes get people killed right now.

“Let me talk to her again,” I say.

He sighs, annoyed, but the line shifts. Chair scrapes. Fabric rustles.

Enley’s voice comes back, closer. “Poe, I’m here.”

My chest squeezes so tight it actually hurts. “Are you hurt?”

Silence. Then she lies, and she lies so badly it breaks my heart. “I’m fine.”

Rage burns behind my eyes. “Don’t do that,” I whisper. “Don’t lie to me, En. Not now.”

Her voice cracks. “I don’t want them to punish me for making you mad.”

I swallow hard, tasting bile. “Listen. I’m coming for you. Just hold on.”

The man cuts back in. “No, you’re not. You’re obeying.”

I grip the gurney harder and force my voice steady. “Where?”

A text pings through. An address. Industrial block near the river. Just a number for the building. No name. My skin crawls.

“Thirty minutes,” he adds. “You’re late, we take something off Enley you can’t put back on.”

The line goes dead.

I stand there in the dim alcove for a long second, breathing through my nose like I’m trying to talk down a rabid animal. Then I move.

Service exit is two corridors down. The hospital’s a madhouse tonight—staff running everywhere, cops crawling the place, security trying to figure out why a patient just vanished in the chaos. Nobody’s looking at the quiet guy in the hoodie pushing a gurney like he belongs.

I shove through a stairwell door and take the freight elevator down.

Every floor feels like a countdown. Arthur’s head lolls a little with the motion.

His mouth hangs open slightly, breathing shallow.

He looks older than he should, face drained and pale.

He’s not the enemy here. He’s just collateral damage in someone else’s war.

The thought sends bile crawling up my throat.

Underground parking garage. I slide the gurney into the back of the stolen utility van I prepped earlier. Smells like motor oil and old fast food wrappers. The metal floor is cold as hell under my hands.

Arthur’s monitor keeps beeping. Steady. Relentless. A timer I can’t ignore.

I climb into the driver’s seat and pull out into the city traffic, keeping my speed boring and legal. Eyes on every mirror. No obvious tail. No flashing lights. Still, the back of my neck prickles like someone’s got a scope on me. Probably because they do. They’ve been watching me for months.

They watched me build something real out of late-night coding sessions and pizza with the crew.

They watched me laugh with Ozzy, Arrow, Knight—like the four of us could actually take on the world and win.

They watched me pretend I could keep Enley safe from all the dark shit that follows people like us.

Now they’re holding her like a knife to my throat.

The address dumps me in a warehouse district that looks completely dead until you know what to look for. One building has a faint glow bleeding around blackout curtains. A security camera up high swivels too smooth, too expensive for this neighborhood.

I park in a shadowed spot and kill the engine. Silence crashes in. Arthur’s monitor still beeps in the back. My burner buzzes once.

Walk in alone. Side door.

I swing the van doors open and pull the gurney out, wheels squeaking softly. Another text hits with the code.

7461

They love reminding me who’s holding the leash. I punch it in. The door clicks open.

Inside, the place smells like fresh paint over something older and rotten. Dim lights. Concrete floors scrubbed too clean, like they’re expecting company. My pulse hammers in my ears.

Footsteps.

A woman steps into the light.

Tall. Lean. Dark hair pulled back tight and severe.

Black suit jacket over a fitted top that screams money.

A fake-looking badge on her belt designed to intimidate.

She’s fucking gorgeous in this lethal way—Asian features sharp and beautiful, like Lucy Liu decided to moonlight as an enforcer.

My eyes catch on her mouth for a beat too long before I yank them back up.

She scans me, then Arthur, then me again, measuring. Her smile is small and cold. “Poe Cameron?”

I keep my face blank. “And you are?”

Her gaze flicks to my hands, then back to my eyes. “I’m the one who keeps you useful.”

A laugh tries to bubble up. I swallow it.

She circles the gurney slow, studying Arthur like he’s a delivery that arrived on schedule. Then her attention snaps back to me, sharper. “Your friends are busy tonight. Ozzy looks ready to burn Saint Pierce to the ground.”

My stomach clenches. “Leave them out of this.”

She tilts her head, amused. “That’s not your call.”

My fingers flex, itching for violence, for control, for anything.

Her smile widens. “You brought the package. Good. You can obey.” The word obey hits like a shove to the chest.

Something hot and dangerous sparks deep in my ribs.

A door opens at the far end of the warehouse. Footsteps echo, slow and deliberate, like the person walking knows nobody here would dare stop them.

The woman glances that way, then back at me, eyes bright with something like amusement. “She’s here. Try not to embarrass yourself.”

My spine goes rigid. Serafina. The ghost Maddox has been chasing for months—maybe years. And now I’m the pawn she’s using to tear my own family apart.

Dean Maddox took a bunch of broken vigilantes and turned us into something that actually fights back against the monsters. Arrow who started it all. Knight and Gage, my friends who have only ever helped me. Ozzy, the man who I’d kill for. And Render… a man who’s lethal in his own ways.

Without Dean, who knows where I’d be. Probably dead in a ditch somewhere.

My burner vibrates again. One new message. A photo lights up the screen: Enley. Tears streaking her face. A nasty bruise blooming along her jaw. Two words underneath.

Be good.

Blood turns to ice in my veins.

The footsteps stop just outside the light. A voice I’ve only heard in rumors speaks from the dark, soft and possessive.

“Poe.”

The woman by the gurney smiles wider as Serafina steps forward.

And right then I realize, in the most brutal fucking way possible, that my cover isn’t the only thing about to get tested tonight.

It’s about to get shattered.