Chapter 14 Atticus
Atticus
The more I learn about Danner and his bullshit, the happier I am that the bastard is dead and I don’t have to handle him myself.
But the ‘fastidious’ man in the ‘neat’ clothing and the clean shoes—the one Phoenix described with that small tremor she tried to hide—that man is still out there.
The Broker.
He’s not the kind of man who gets his hands dirty. He has minions for that, men who will take the fall and the blame if something goes sideways. I have no doubt that when he heard the gunfire and saw men dropping the night of Phoenix’s rescue, he had a rescue hatch, and he took it.
Like rats in a sewer, they always find their way to the top when it floods.
Phoenix also told us, when she emerged from her shower, how Danner had explained the hierarchy of things to her. There was him, then there was the Broker, and then there was someone else the Broker answered to.
That’s who we need to find. I mean…we need to find both of them, obviously, but it does us no good to only put the Broker in a grave.
Both of the motherfuckers need to die.
Storm leans against the bar counter in the den, arms crossed over his chest, watching me pace. “Say it,” he orders quietly. “Whatever it is that’s got you tweaking right now.”
Maverick and Con are sprawled on the couch, half-paying attention to some crime show on TV.
“So now we know without doubt,” I say, “that Danner didn’t have the brains or the access to do this alone. The cameras weren’t cut for him. Someone inside helped—and someone above him ordered it.”
Conrad’s jaw ticks. “We know it’s someone in Security. We just need to figure out who. And from what Phoenix told us, they’re working for this guy…The Broker. And the Broker is working for someone else.”
Maverick lets out a low whistle. “Right, which means we’re not just cleaning up Danner’s mess with all these girls and Phoenix. We’re in a different league altogether. We’re up against an entire world that we have no clue about or how to maneuver in.”
“Exactly.” I pull a fresh page from the pad and start mapping connections—timelines, access points, names, debts, everything that links when you stare long enough. “Danner wasn’t smart enough to orchestrate any of this. He was a tool. Disposable. Someone used him to gain proximity, to get close.”
Storm frowns. “Close to what? Us? Her? What was—is—the end goal here? Because nothing is finished.”
“Well,” I say. “Her father undoubtedly knew men like Danner. Men who work both sides of the law. Men who collect debts for people who don’t want to be seen and want their money to buy their entrance into our world. So he would have been a starting point.”
Silence settles, heavy and knowing, surrounding us until there’s nothing left but the weight of my implication.
Conrad’s stare cuts through it. “You think all of this ties back to him and Phoenix.”
“Absolutely it does.” I tap the pen on the paper. “We all watched the video. Her father didn’t just fail her—he sold her. Sold her to pay back debts he never intended to repay.”
Maverick scrubs a hand down his face. “So we’re not just dealing with random skeezy criminals. We’re dealing with whoever bought the debt. Whoever expected delivery.”
Storm’s voice drops. “And Danner was just the delivery boy.”
“Yes,” I say slowly. “He delivered the threat. He scared her. Cornered her. Tried to assert control he didn’t have. He wasn’t the one calling the shots.”
“And he wasn’t the one who took her,” Conrad adds. “He’s just the tool that the Broker used in order to do it.”
“And we were the ones who pulled her off it,” I remind them. “She never would have escaped if we hadn’t found her.”
Storm leans in. “So the Broker—if that’s who this is—didn’t lose an asset. He lost a transaction. More than one transaction, judging from the number of people who climbed down those ladders.”
“Exactly.” I circle words on the page again. Debt. Father. Unknown Buyer. Danner. Shipment. Titan-Wynn. “We interrupted a deal we didn’t know existed and claimed Phoenix as ours instead of letting her be sold.”
Maverick’s jaw tightens. “We’re missing something. Her father made a deal with her as the bargaining chip.”
“And that means whoever was expecting her?” My voice goes flat. “They aren’t going to forget about her. And they aren’t going to give up. Giving up means losing, and absolutely no one in any position of power likes losing.”
“Correct, but wait, there’s more. Hear me out here—why Phoenix?
” Maverick asks. “Her father owes money. She’s the payment.
We offer to pay it. Rejected. Soundly rejected, to the point where we have all this business going on.
” He makes a sweeping gesture. “It has to be about more than paying a debt. There has to be something special about Phoenix, something personal. If we want to figure out who this mysterious…head honcho…is, that’s what we have to figure out. ”
We’re all silent for a moment, considering.
“This was a true moment of brilliance for you, Mav,” Con murmurs.
Maverick preens. “I know.”
I write three more words and underline them.
Debts. Power. Ownership.
Con breaks the silence. “So what’s our angle?”
“Patterns,” I say. “We go backward and forward. Trace Danner’s movements. His comms. Any unexplained income. Then map it against her father’s collapse. See who had the most to gain—or the most to lose.”
Maverick groans. “Man, please don’t say the word ‘map’ again today.”
Storm’s mouth barely twitches. “He’s absolutely going to say it again.”
“I am,” I say calmly, “because the bastard left trails he didn’t hide as well as he thinks.”
We gather around the table and begin the hunt with a different angle in mind. Beneath all of it, one truth thrums like a pulse: someone out there still wants what he thinks he’s owed, and is willing to do whatever it takes to get it.
Her.
Phoenix.
That’s fine, though.
We understand, and we’re willing to do whatever it takes to prevent that from happening.
Phoenix is only a room away. Safe—for now. Healing.
We won’t let anyone steal her from us again.
But we all feel it—the person who bought her father’s debt isn’t done.
That just means that neither are we.
Because there’s something that no one ever understands. One of us being obsessed? That can be managed… but all four of the Titans together?
Phoenix doesn’t just belong to us. We belong to her, and we’ll destroy anything and anyone who tries to stand in the way of that.
A soft motion on the feed catches my attention—Phoenix shifting on the bed in her room, running her fingers along Zeus’s fur like she’s grounding herself. She stares toward the window, toward the water she hasn’t stepped near since we brought her here.
My chest tightens, and I rub a fist over my sternum.
Storm follows my gaze. “Go,” he murmurs. “She doesn’t need all of us right now. She needs one of us who doesn’t make her flinch.”
Maverick arches a brow. “And we’re just…letting Atticus win this round, why?”
“It’s not a round,” Conrad mutters.
But he steps aside for me just the same.
I push away from the table, palm thudding against the wood. “I’m not abandoning the board. You guys keep at it.”
“We got this,” Storm says. “We’re occasionally able to do smart things without you. Sometimes people say I’m the smart one. Go. Take care of her. She needs you more than we do.”
He’s right. Damn him.
I cross the short hallway and knock softly on the doorframe.
“Hey,” I say. “You want to get some air?”
She hesitates. That alone makes something inside me twist. Then she nods.
The Tybee deck is quiet, the late afternoon breeze warm against our skin. I open the sliding door for her, watching the way she tenses at the threshold—as if she expects the world to rise up and swallow her for stepping outside.
She looks around warily, then places one bare foot onto the wood planks.
Then the other.
But three steps out, her breath catches. Her pulse flutters visibly in her throat. Her eyes glaze like she’s reliving something she hasn’t spoken aloud.
“I’m not sure I can—”
“Stop,” I say gently, already reaching for her. I pull her into me, wrapping my arms around her and drawing her tight to my chest. Closing my eyes, I lower my face to her hair and breathe her in.
It’s been too long.
“Right here’s enough. Just breathe, kitten.”
Slowly, muscle by muscle, her body relaxes. She shakes her head like she’s trying to fight her own reaction. “I thought I was ready.”
“You are,” I say, dropping a kiss on her temple. “You just need a minute.”
I guide her to one of the lounge chairs—worn canvas, big enough for two if you don’t mind touching. I sit first, leaning back, giving her space to decide if she wants me.
It takes only a breath.
Phoenix sinks against me, her knees drawn up, her cheek fitting into the hollow of my shoulder like she’d been molded for it. Zeus curls at our feet, warm and solid.
Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I hate that he changed me.”
“He didn’t,” I say. “He scared you. Scars aren’t change—they’re reminders. You’re still you, Phoenix. And you’re still rising.”
Her fingers tighten on my shirt. “I like that.” A few minutes later, “What if he comes back?”
“He won’t,” I promise. Not because I know it for a fact, but because I’ll burn the world down until it’s true. “We’re already closing in. Everything you told us was helpful. Today was the first time we saw the shape of what we’re fighting. We’re going to find him.”
A long silence unfurls.
“Atticus,” she murmurs. “I don’t want to be afraid forever.”
“You won’t be,” I tell her. “You don’t need to be afraid while we’re here. And we’re going to get you through it so that you leave here and know you don’t have to be afraid of anything ever again.”
Her breathing evens out—slow, shaky, but real. She curls closer until her legs rest across mine and her weight settles fully.
And for the first time since we pulled her off that ship, my heart stops clawing at my ribs.
A little while later, she lifts her head slightly. Her eyes—tired and raw—search mine.
“Did you…watch me this morning?” she asks softly. “On your screens?”
I don’t lie. “Of course.”
“And you’re not going to apologize for that, are you?”
“No.”
A beat.
“Good,” she whispers. “I like it when you watch.”
Something warm stirs under my ribs, quiet but fierce. “You do, huh?”
Her eyelids flutter closed. “You know I do. Stay with me a little longer?”
“Phoenix,” I say into her hair, “I’m not going anywhere.”
She falls asleep like that—held, safe, the ocean below us steady and constant.
I stay there long after her breath evens out and the sun dips below the horizon.
Because while Conrad wants to control the world, and Storm wants to protect it, and Maverick wants to fix it…
My job is here. More immediate.
I’ll hold her steady. Find the man who broke her peace, and end him.
And then I’ll make sure she rises again.
But for tonight…tonight, I start with the simplest of tasks.
I keep her warm. And I keep her breathing.