23. Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Reaper
The sun has started to shine through the blinds when I hear a knock at the door, low and cautious.
Wrenley doesn’t stir. She’s still tucked against my chest, one of her thighs thrown over mine, her cheek warm against my skin. I brush a hand down her back with a quiet, “Yeah?”
The door creaks open, and Max steps inside, his hair a tousled mess, a mug of coffee in one hand, with the amusement already written across his face.
“Morning,” he says, then glances down and freezes. His eyes land on the dagger still on the floor, then drift to the shredded remains of the black leather lingerie next to it.
“Umm.” I sit up a little, dragging the sheet higher over my waist. “Morning.”
Max blinks, then nods slowly. “I know we said no comparing, but… this I have to hear.”
Wrenley shifts against me, making a sleepy little sound as her eyes blink open. Her gaze flicks to Max, then down to the floor.
“Oh,” she giggles, rubbing one eye. “That confused him… so he cut it off me.”
Max raises a brow, glancing between us like he’s both impressed and mildly horrified. “Nice. I might have to try that one.” He says with a wink at Wrenley.
We all laugh, low and warm, the kind of sound that wraps around your ribs and makes you forget the world outside even exists.
Max sips his coffee. “Food is ready. Come down. It’s an actual sit-down breakfast, not us standing around eating out of the pans or the toaster like raccoons in a garbage dump.”
I stare at him, skeptical. “Someone cooked? Like… on purpose?”
He nods. “Yeah, Doc. Said she needed something to do with her hands, that wasn’t stitching someone up or punching Torque for snoring.”
Wrenley stretches like a cat, then curls closer to me. “We’ll be right down,” she murmurs.
Max starts to turn back toward the door when Wrenley calls, “Umm, excuse you?”
He pauses, smiling before stepping back to the bed. He leans in and kisses her, slow and soft. She hums against his mouth, satisfied when he pulls away.
“Better,” she says, voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.
Max grins. “Yeah. See you two in ten, before it all gets eaten.”
As the door shuts behind him, I glance down at Wrenley, who’s now propped on one elbow, grinning up at me. “I like mornings like this,” she says.
I lean in, brushing a kiss to her temple. “Me too, Little Warrior. Me too.”
Wrenley’s laughter cuts through the kitchen like sunlight, sharp, bright, and impossible to ignore.
We’re all sitting around the long oak table, plates piled high from Doc’s surprise gourmet breakfast spread.
Wrenley’s curled up on Max’s lap, practically glowing.
I’m next to them, watching like I always do, half a step back, half a breath behind, except now I don’t have to keep my distance.
Now she’s ours. And fuck, that still doesn’t feel real.
Torque’s giving Wrecker shit about something dumb he did when he was nineteen, and Wrecker’s quipping back like he always does.
“This from the kid who wanted to be a priest when he grew up,” Wrecker fires.
Wrenley nearly chokes on her mimosa, laughing. “Huh. Daddy.”
Everything goes still. Max freezes, mid-sip. Margot stops mid-chew. Riot glances over his shoulder like he misheard her. Hugo, saint that he is, sighs from under the table like he’s used to this kind of madness.
Wrenley’s eyes go wide. She slaps a hand over her mouth, like she could shove the word back in. But it’s too late. It’s hanging in the air now. Loaded. Dangerous.
Margot breaks the silence with a wicked grin. “Wrenley Evelyn Hayes-Blackwood,” she drawls. “That was dirty. I liked it.”
Wrenley groans, dropping her face into Max’s shoulder, muttering something like, “I hate you all,” but she’s laughing.
Max and I share a look over her head. We don’t say anything. But the grin on his face matches the one I feel pulling at mine. Because now all I can think about is her saying that again. To one of us. Or both. And maybe, in a much, much different context.
The laughter is still fading from the room when Elias clears his throat and leans back in his chair, arms folded, expression turning sharp.
“Well,” he says, dragging the word out just long enough for everyone to feel it. “Unless anyone else wants to lay out their newly discovered kinks—”
“Shut up,” Wrenley mutters, still half-laughing into Max’s shoulder.
Elias just grins. “We’ve got business. The serpents at the safehouse say Matthew’s asking to meet. Says he has something new.”
That wipes the smile off everyone’s faces.
Max shifts beneath Wrenley, jaw tightening. Wrenley lifts her head, all amusement gone now, the steel sliding back into her eyes. Margot’s already reaching for her laptop. Riot tosses his fork onto this plate with a loud clatter.
The whole room shifts like a storm front rolling in, fast, heavy, inevitable. I feel it too. That cracking tension. That familiar sense that whatever comes next isn’t going to be simple. Or easy. Or clean. Then again, it never is.
Wrecker stands, pushing his chair back with a scrape. “Guess that means breakfast is over.”
Torque grabs his mug and downs the rest of his coffee. “Shame. I was starting to enjoy the peace.”
Wrenley swings her leg off Max’s lap, rising in one fluid motion. “It was an illusion anyway.”
Doc gives a little sigh but smiles as she begins gathering empty plates. “At least you got to eat in peace for once.”
Everyone murmurs thank you and kisses her on the cheek on their way out, scattering with trained instinct, off to change, arm themselves, run down protocols. Even Hugo lumbers after Wrenley like he knows something’s coming.
Max stays behind a beat longer, catching my eye as I stand. “You think he’s serious?”
I nod once, jaw tight. “He wouldn’t have asked for a meeting if it wasn’t something big.”
“Then I guess we find out how far down this rabbit hole goes.”
I slap him on the shoulder and head out. Whatever this is, whatever Matthew’s holding, we’re about to find out if it’s hope… or a goddamn match tossed into a powder keg.
Matthew shifts in his seat, fingers twitching like he’s not sure whether to speak or bolt. He’s already sweating, part nerves, part guilt, and the way he keeps glancing toward Torque is starting to get on my nerves.
“You got something to say?” I finally ask, flatly.
Matthew swallows. “Yeah, uh… it’s just...” His gaze flicks to Torque again, lingering this time like he’s trying to place a memory. “You look… I mean, he looks…”
Torque leans forward, jaw ticking. “Spit it the fuck out, man. What are you staring at me for?”
Matthew shifts again, almost shrinking in the metal chair.
“The backer. The guy who’s been funding Sebastian, the one behind a lot of the resources and cover.
I’ve only seen him a few times. But… he looks a lot like you.
Maybe a year or two older. Not as built, no tattoos. But the resemblance? It’s uncanny.”
My blood slows in my veins. “What’s his name?”
Matthew licks his lips. “I only know his first name. Cyrus.”
Torque jerks back like he’s been slapped. His voice is barely a breath. “Fuck me.”
Wrenley looks between us. “What? What is it?”
Torque doesn’t take his eyes off the floor. “My brother’s name is Cyrus. And yeah… he looks just like me. Just happens to be a complete piece of shit.”
The room falls silent, tense, all eyes locking on him.
Matthew tries to keep the momentum going, oblivious or just too used to chaos. “Anyway… Sebastian owes him money. Promised to pay him once he finishes what he’s doing, his words, not mine. Said he’s destroying his sister’s life and walking away with everything.”
Wrenley rolls her eyes. “Charming.”
I cross my arms. “How do you want to play this?”
Torque sits up straighter, something sharp sliding into place behind his eyes. “He runs underground high-stakes poker games, girls, drugs. The money flies like confetti. I go in and talk to him. He won’t think twice about me showing up. I’ll offer to buy off the debt and get whatever intel I can.”
Wrenley doesn’t even pause. “You’re not going alone. I’m going with you.”
Max, Torque, and I all say it at the same time.
“No.”
She glares at us, spine snapping straight. “If it involves Sebastian, I’m going.”
Max’s voice is low, on the verge of scolding. “Sparrow, it’s not—”
“Otherwise, I’ll find a way in from wherever you assign me. You know I will.” Wrenley says with a hint of snark in her voice
Max sighs, already rubbing his forehead like he’s bracing for a migraine. He looks at me. “Well, what do you think?”
I study her, her steel spine, the fire in her eyes, the kind of determination that doesn’t bend, even when it breaks. Hell, if I don’t love her more for it.
I shrug. “She’s hellbent. Might as well let her walk through the front door with Torque instead of crawling in through the damn vents.”
Max nods in agreement. “This is true.”
Torque exhales slowly, resigned. “You’ll need to dress nicely. Cyrus always has a dress code, dark suits, high-end fashion, something loud enough to scream money.”
Margot perks up from where she’s perched on the arm of the couch, practically vibrating. “Say less. I got this.”
Torque eyes Wrenley again. “You won’t be able to carry a gun. Security will be tight.”
Wrenley shrugs, casual as sin. “As long as I have my dagger, I’m good.”
Wrecker lets out a laugh from behind her. “Yeah, she is!”
Max and I lock eyes with Torque. “T,” I start, already knowing the words forming on both our tongues.
Torque holds up a hand. “I got her. I swear it on my ink, and with my life.”
I nod once. Because in our world, that promise isn’t just words. It’s binding. And if Cyrus is involved? This war just went nuclear.