24. Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Four
Wrenley
The engine purrs like a predator beneath us, sleek and silent as Torque navigates Max’s favorite car, a matte black Aston Martin DBS Superleggera, through the dim, winding streets toward the warehouse.
The interior smells like leather and danger, like power and old secrets.
We haven’t said much since we left the mansion.
It’s a comfortable quiet, the kind that settles in when there’s too much to say and not enough time to say it.
Torque finally glances over at me. “You look nice.”
Before I can say anything, static crackles in my ear and Max’s voice cuts through. “That dress is too revealing.”
I smirk, eyes still on the road ahead. “My shadow, if you didn’t want me to wear it, you shouldn’t have bought it for me.”
Laughter rolls through the comms. Margot snorts. “She’s not wrong, boss.”
“I’m regretting my choices,” Max mutters.
“You always do,” Liam adds. I can hear the smile in his voice. That soft, smoky tone that makes my spine tingle.
“Focus,” Elias says dryly. “You’re about to walk into a den of criminals, not a damn runway show.”
“We’re all criminals.” Torque replies.
I glance at Torque, eyebrows raised. “Right or left-handed?”
“Right. Why?”
I shift in the seat, tugging the sheath down my right thigh and looping it around my left instead. “If I have to pull this, I don’t want to accidentally stab you. I’ll stay on your left, in case you need to pull your weapon.”
“Can you throw that thing with your left hand?” he asks, genuinely curious.
Before I can answer, Wrecker’s voice breaks in. “Oh yeah, she can. I’ve been working with her. After she stuck that woman in the throat, I wanted to see if it was a fluke.”
Liam chimes in, dry and sandpaper. “Turns out she can do it over and over again, left and right.”
“God help whoever pisses off our queen.” Riot adds.
“Damn right,” I say, eyes locked on the looming silhouette of the warehouse in the distance.
Torque pulls the car to a stop. The warehouse towers above us like a sleeping giant, quiet but far from lifeless. The windows are dark. The lot is mostly empty, but I know better. I know where our people are, tucked in shadows and corners with eyes on every possible escape route.
He comes around and opens my door, offering me his arm like a gentleman from another lifetime. I take it, slipping into the role we need them to see.
“Try to look meek,” he mutters under his breath. “Not a threat. They’ll let you keep the dagger if you don’t look like you’ll use it.”
I nod. “Okay.” But we both know better. I’ll use it if I have to. And I won’t miss.
The warehouse stinks of cigar smoke and bad intentions. Torque and I step through the double doors like we belong there, but the second we cross the threshold, we’re met with resistance.
“Name?” one guard asks, clipboard in hand.
Another is already patting us down. His hands are fast, impersonal, until they hit the sheath strapped high to my thigh. He pauses.
I smirk at him. “Feel something you like?”
“You can’t bring that in here,” he says gruffly.
Over the comm, Liam’s voice cuts through. “Play it cool, Little Warrior. We’ve got eyes.”
Torque doesn’t flinch. “We’re not here to play,” he says. “We want to see Cyrus.”
The clipboard guy raises a brow. “He’s busy. Twenty-k buy-in… minimum.”
Torque sighs like this is the most exhausting thing he’s dealt with today. “Tell him his brother is requesting a face-to-face.”
That gets their attention. The guard speaks into a radio, then, after a beat, nods at his partner. “Follow me.”
I lace my arm through Torque’s again and fall into character, trophy girl, accessory, harmless.
“They’re headed up to the catwalk, office,” Riot says over comms. “I’ve got a visual. Wrenley’s dress is a war crime, and I mean that as a compliment.”
“Copy that,” Elias chimes in. “Internal feed is up, we’ve got eyes inside from every angle.”
We’re led up a narrow staircase that creaks under our weight, the kind of sound that makes my skin itch.
From the overlook, the full depravity of the scene unfolds below, barely-legal girls in lingerie draped over laps, pouring drinks, laughing too loudly.
The women with these men are stone-faced, and I feel it in my bones. No one here is safe.
Once we’re in the office, Torque leans down, his voice low, and his lips brushing my ear. “No matter what, follow my lead.”
I smile, draping over him silk, lean close to his face, and purr. “Sure, baby. Whatever you say.”
The guard stares. Good. He leaves us with a grunt and shuts the door. Torque doesn’t let go of me. His jaw locked tight, hand like stone on my arm. I place my hand gently over his and mouth the word, breathe.
He gives me a short nod as the door swings open. And there he is. Cyrus. He could be Torque’s twin. Just leaner, slicker, and with a smile that makes my skin crawl.
“Everett,” he says, like it’s a toast. His eyes flick to me and gleam. “And this must be Mrs. Blackwood. I’ve heard… Interesting things.”
He winks.
“How’s it looking?” Max’s voice cuts in over the comm, tight and clipped.
“Eyes on. No weapons visible,” Reaper replies. “Wrenley’s tense but not panicked.”
Cyrus gestures to a velvet couch. “Please, sit.”
We do, intentionally close.
Torque stays calm. “Cyrus. Good to see you.”
“You too, little brother.” Cyrus lounges in a chair like a king. “So… dating the boss’s wife now? Didn’t think you had that in you.”
I tense, but Torque doesn’t miss a beat. “Life isn’t black and white. Wrenley dates who she wants, when she wants.”
That gets a double-take. I just smile sweetly and settle even closer to Torque.
“Enough catching up,” Torque says. “We’ve got business.”
Cyrus arches a brow. “Always business. Fine. What’s the offer?”
Torque looks at me.
“How much debt is Sebastian Montclair in with you?” I ask.
Cyrus hums. “Ah, Sebastian. Odd fellow. Good taste in violence and profit. I loaned him five mil. He’s still three in the hole.”
“Three million,” Elias says through the comms. “He leveraged that debt hard. Makes sense, gives Cyrus leverage over his sick empire.”
I lean forward slightly, letting the neckline of my dress slip just enough to get the job done.
“What if I offer you the three million to walk away? No more contact. No more business. You pretend he doesn’t exist.”
Cyrus eyes me like he’s trying to see through my skin. “Why would I give that up? He’s building something big. Something profitable.”
Torque’s voice is steel. “Because I’m asking. And I’ve never asked you for anything. Not after what I did for you.”
Cyrus’ smile twists. “They're still calling you Torque, huh?”
Torque nods, “Yeah. They are.”
Cyrus looks at me again. “Tell me, darling, did he ever mention how he got that name?”
“Don’t take the bait,” Wrecker growls.
Cyrus tilts his head. “I assume you’re not here alone.”
I grin, wicked and slow, as I place my hand high on Torque's thigh. “All my husbands are here.”
That makes him falter. Slightly.
“Atta girl,” Riot whispers. “Rattled him.”
Cyrus sighs, pulls out his phone, and starts typing. “He owes me three, but he promised me ten times that when this is over. Once he breaks his sister, the whole world will open up for us.”
My blood turns to ice.
Cyrus leans back, smug. “I know who you are, Wrenley. You’re the sister. He just wants his share of the legacy. You took everything and left him nothing.”
I cross my legs slowly, left over right, letting the dagger glint under the slit of my dress.
“He’s trying to sell people,” Torque snaps. “You know that, right?”
“He’s not selling people,” Cyrus shrugs. “He’s selling legacy heirs, breeding contracts. People pay top dollar for the best genetics.”
I stand, Cyrus tracks every inch.
“Oh, don’t run, those who run?” He continues. “Well, accidents happen. No one cares.”
I can feel Torque rising beside me, his energy like a brewing storm.
“My shadows,” I say, letting my voice drift through the comms. “Tell me you heard that threat.”
“He’s dead,” Max replies. “Just say the word, Sparrow.”
Torque snaps. He surges forward, hand going for his weapon. I already have my dagger in my palm.
“We walk out of here untouched,” Torque growls, “Or our people burn this place to the fucking ground.”
I step close, never blinking. “And what I just heard… no one here is innocent.”
Cyrus smirks. “You think I’m afraid of the Black Serpents?”
“No, but you should be scared of her,” Torque says, looking at me, then back to his brother. “Because she’s the only thing keeping you breathing right now.”
Cyrus narrows his eyes, scanning the ceiling, as if looking for snipers. Smart. But not smart enough. Because if he knew what we were capable of… he wouldn’t be smiling. He’d be begging.
Cyrus leans back, that smug grin oozing from every pore. “Well, little brother, I’m sorry, but you buying out his debt, when he’s poised to make me a whole lot more…” he clicks his tongue. “That’s just bad business.”
Then he turns to me, his eyes flicking over my body like he owns it. “Good luck, dear.”
It feels like a knife under my skin. He knows. Not just about Sebastian’s obsession, but about what’s coming.
I tug on Torque’s arm gently. The signal is subtle, but he doesn’t miss it.
“You’re a bigger piece of shit than I ever gave you credit for,” Torque spits, jaw tight.
Cyrus claps his hands. “Looking forward to it, Everett.”
We don’t give him the satisfaction of looking back. As we make our way down the catwalk and stairs, past twitchy muscles with twitchier fingers, my hand still grips my dagger. Torque’s knuckles are white on his weapon. No one stops us.
Back in the car, the silence hangs heavy, dense with frustration and fury.
“Fuck,” Torque hits the steering wheel. “I hate him so much.”
“He’s a real charmer,” I say dryly, still feeling the residue of Cyrus’s gaze crawling over my skin.
Torque exhales, hard. “I got the name one night when we were younger…”
I glance at him, but I don’t press. He catches my look and shakes his head. “No, you should know.”
“When I was eighteen, not long after Reaper left for his first tour, I was drifting. Pulled away from everyone. From the Serpents. From what family I had. One night, I was at home in the garage. Cyrus came in with two guys. Said he owed money to a bookie and they were there to collect.”
I sit quietly. Letting him speak.
“I told them I didn’t have any cash. They didn’t take it well and it turned ugly fast. I ended up killing both of them. All while never dropping the wrench I was holding. Cyrus called some guys he ran with. They cleaned up the mess. They gave me the name. Torque.”
He pauses, then adds. “Wrecker’s the one who turned it into something more, after he realized I could drive anything with wheels… or rotors.”
I smile faintly. “Did you think I’d judge you for that? You’ve seen me end lives without blinking. You watched me throw a dagger into a woman’s throat and then climb one of my husbands like he was a farewell carnival ride.”
He snorts a laugh. “Okay, yeah. Fair. Still… Cyrus always hung that night over my head.”
“Well,” I say, reaching over to squeeze his forearm. “We’re going to hang him instead. Him and Sebastian. One way or another.”
“Yeah,” he says. “If it’s the last thing we do.”
Then I grin. “So… milkshakes on the way home?”
Laughter bursts through the comms.”
“I fucking knew it,” Elias groans. “You can survive a warehouse full of creeps, face Torque’s evil twin, and still circle back to dessert.”
“Priorities,” I shoot back. “Yours are just out of order.”
“Mine are immaculate,” Max adds.
“Milkshakes solve everything,” Liam says smoothly.
Torque barks a laugh. “You guys are a circus.”
“Yeah,” I say, eyes on the passing city lights. “But we’re the kind of circus that burns the tent down.”