27. RYDER
RYDER
The fire’s crackling low in the hearth. CJ’s got his hands wrapped around a mug of black coffee, silent, brooding like he always gets when his mind is spinning in ten different directions.
Hawk’s lying back on the couch with his boots kicked up, eyes half-closed, but he’s not relaxed.
Hasn’t been since Jake’s press conference. None of us has.
Marcy comes through the door like a storm, cheeks flushed, eyes wild. She doesn’t even shut it all the way before she blurts out, “I saw him.”
CJ’s already sitting up straighter. Hawk drops his boots to the ground with a dull thud.
“Who?” I ask gently, setting my cup down.
She looks at us, and her voice cracks when she says, “Dad. At Bianca’s. They were… together.”
“What do you mean together?” Hawk asks, voice darkening.
“I mean together together,” she says, breath coming fast. “Laughing. Hugging. He kissed her. She kissed him back.”
I feel CJ go still beside me. Hawk swears under his breath.
Marcy keeps going, words tumbling out now like she has to get them out before they choke her.
“I was going there to apologize. I brought cookies because I thought maybe she was upset I didn’t go with her when she offered to leave town.
But she wasn’t hurt. She wasn’t confused. She knew. She’s been with him.”
I stand up and cross to her. She’s trembling. I take the cookies from her hands and set them down, then pull her into my arms.
“It must have been her,” CJ says quietly from behind me. “She’s the leak. The pictures, the footage—all of it. Your father must have put her up to it.”
Marcy sits down between Hawk and CJ, pulling a blanket across her lap like it’s the only barrier between her and the betrayal still echoing in her head.
She’s trying to be composed, but I know her too well now—the way her knee bounces beneath the fabric, how her fingers tug at the edge of the blanket. She’s rattled.
Hell, we’re all rattled.
“She was the only person I had when I left home,” Marcy says quietly, staring into the fireplace. “She knew what my dad was. She saw how he controlled everything, how my mom just… wilted. And the whole time, she was playing both sides.”
CJ’s voice is calm but cold. “Which makes her dangerous. And worse, useful to Jake. He wouldn’t keep someone close unless he was getting something out of it.”
“Blackmail, probably,” Hawk adds. “Or maybe he just likes to know he can get close to what we care about and twist the knife.”
“No, this wasn’t it,” Marcy says, shaking her head. “It wasn’t blackmail. She seemed happy with him. She’s probably seeing him behind Nadia’s back.” She laughs bitterly. “My father’s such an asshole. How come I never saw who he truly was till I had the guts to make decisions on my own?”
“Marcy, Bianca was never your friend if she just sold you out to your father like that,” CJ says.
I clench my jaw. It fits. It all fits.
The pictures leaked right after Bianca visited the bar. Then came her sudden withdrawal. The way she always nudged Marcy to question us, doubt us.
And now we know why.
“You think she was spying the whole time?” Marcy asks, voice small.
“Maybe not at first,” I say, crouching in front of her, taking one of her hands in mine. “But she’s with him now. That’s what matters.”
“She’s a liability,” CJ says. “And now that Jake knows we’re not rolling over, he’ll use her again. Or someone else. He’s already playing the long game.”
Marcy’s eyes fill with fresh fury. “Then let’s not play defense anymore. Let’s go on the offensive.”
I glance at Hawk. He raises his brows but nods slowly.
“She’s right,” I say. “We’ve been reacting to Jake’s moves since this started. We need to start making our own.”
CJ runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “If we want to bring him down, we’ll need real leverage. Something that ties him to Blackthorne. Something beyond our word.”
“Maybe not all the evidence was destroyed,” I muse. “Jake’s arrogant. He likes control. That kind of man keeps insurance somewhere. For himself.”
Marcy grips my hand tighter. “Then we find it.”
CJ looks between the three of us, something shifting in his eyes—resolve, steel, maybe even hope.
“Alright,” he says. “We go looking.”
“Where?” Hawk asks.
CJ stands. “Everywhere he wouldn’t expect us to.”
“And where do we start exactly?” I ask.
CJ is still on his feet, already ticking through possibilities, locations, connections, strategizing like he always does when the fire’s lit under him. Hawk’s pacing again, hands on his hips, muttering under his breath about encrypted files and dirty politicians.
Me? I’m watching her.
Marcy.
She’s no longer trembling. She’s leaning back into the couch now, calm in a way that’s almost unsettling. There’s something behind her eyes, like a fuse that’s just caught a flame.
“I have an idea,” she says suddenly.
All three of us freeze.
CJ turns to her. “What kind of idea?”
She just smiles. It’s not a warm smile. It’s calculated. Cool. A little dangerous.
The kind of smile that says she’s done playing nice.
“Marcy,” Hawk says, stepping closer. “What are you thinking?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Just curls her legs beneath her, grabs the half-empty cookie tin from the coffee table, and pops the lid like we’re all just sitting down for a game night instead of plotting a takedown.
“You’re not gonna like it,” she says finally.
CJ narrows his eyes. “Tell us, anyway.”
She grins and reaches for a cookie. “It’s a big risk, but it’s one we have to take.”
“What are we waiting for?” CJ asks.
“There’s one person I need to talk to first,” Marcy says.
The warm, sweet scents of cinnamon and citrus fill the kitchen. I swirl the last of the punch in the bowl, giving it a taste with the wooden ladle and nodding in satisfaction. Perfect—just the right balance of sweet and sharp, with a bite that sneaks up on you.
Unless you’re Marcy. I’ve got her nonalcoholic version chilling separately in a glass pitcher.
CJ and Hawk are lounging in the living room. Sam is sprawled on the rug, still riding the high of staying up past midnight last night. We’ve kept the bar closed, phones off, and stress locked out.
New Year’s Day. Clean slate. Or at least, a quieter chapter till our eventual reckoning comes. I still don’t know what the hell we’re going to do. Our court summons is just a few short weeks away now that the holidays are about to be over. But I try not to think about that.
Her arms slide around my waist, and I feel her before I even hear her. Marcy presses into my back, warm and soft and solid, her belly brushing my lower spine. I cover her hands with mine and lean into her slightly.
“Smells good,” she murmurs.
“Tastes better,” I say, turning in her arms.
I lift her easily and set her on the counter. She giggles as I pour a glass of her alcohol-free punch and lift it to her lips.
She takes a sip, and a drop slips down the corner of her mouth.
“Messy,” I murmur.
Then I lean in and lick it from her skin—slow and deliberate—before capturing her mouth in a kiss. She hums against my lips, fingers curling in my shirt.
I pull back just enough to look at her. “You still thinking about that reporter?”
She’s wearing Hawk’s hoodie, draped over her frame like armor. The sleeves hang past her hands, and she’s tucked them in like she always does when she’s thinking too much.
“Yeah,” she says. “He’s expecting my call. He’s the only one who didn’t take the party line the last time my father tried to control a story.”
I nod slowly, setting the glass down beside her. “You trust him?”
“I trust that he hates being lied to,” she says. “And I know how to give him the pieces. Carefully. On my terms.”
I glance at her. “I hate to ruin the peace, but… court’s still coming.”
Her breath puffs into the air. “We’ll figure it out before it gets that far.”
I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then when you’re ready… we follow your lead.”
Her lips curve into that sly, dangerous smile I’ve come to love. “Oh,” she says, brushing a kiss to my jaw. “I’m ready.”
I nod, even though the tension in her jaw tells me she’s already thinking three steps ahead. Still, her silence has a shape to it. A name.
“Thinking about her?” I ask gently.
She nods. Hawk comes up from behind, draping a protective arm over Marcy’s shoulder.
“What are you guys talking about?” he asks.
Marcy’s expression shifts. Her brows tighten, and her lips press into a line. “Bianca.”
Hawk scowls. “Don’t ruin your mood thinking about her.”
“I trusted her with everything,” she murmurs. “She saw every part of me, every mistake I made, every fear… and she used it.”
“You trusted her because she was there for you when no one else was,” I say. “That’s not weakness. That’s human.”
She doesn’t say anything, but her fingers brush against mine.
“You know,” Hawk says, “back in high school, I got jumped by guys I thought were my brothers. All because I dated a girl they didn’t approve of.”
Marcy turns slightly in his arms, her brows drawn. “What?”
“They called it loyalty. Said I was breaking some code. Truth was, they just couldn’t handle change.
” He shrugs, pulling her closer. “Loyalty means something else to me now. Something better.” He looks at me, then back to her.
“I’m just glad we figured out a way to do this right.
I don’t think I could’ve split my heart three ways. ”
Marcy leans into him, her voice soft. “Feels like I don’t have any family loyalty left… not after what I’m about to do.”
CJ’s voice cuts through the air from behind us, firm but quiet. “You do. You’re standing in it. If you’re second-guessing,” he adds as he steps into the kitchen, “say the word, and we can walk away. No questions. We’ll find another way.”
I blink. CJ offering to pause the plan? That’s rare. That’s… a big deal.
Marcy looks between the three of us before looking down at the floor for a moment. “No,” she says, lifting her chin. “We’re doing this. I’m done living in someone else’s shadow.”
And just like that, the fire’s back in her eyes.
“I told my mom about the baby,” I say after a beat.