Sage stepped forward, pulling a kit from his pack, his hands precise. He crouched in front of Titus, snapping on gloves.
“Prints first,” Sage said, quiet but firm.
Law stepped forward—broad, deliberate, a wall of muscle and warning. He didn’t need words; the move alone told Titus he’d end him if he tried anything.
Titus offered his hands with no resistance. Rainwater dripped from his hair, blood drying at the corner of his mouth.
“You think I walked into your den for fun? I came because Tatum’s elusive. But if all I get is your bullshit, maybe I should’ve burned this place down instead.”
“You got lucky you’re still alive,” Dave said, his voice low—deadly in its calm.
Titus met his eyes across the room and, after several moments, tipped his head. The slight dip told Dave he understood just how bad this could get.
The machine beeped, Sage working fast, the tension in the room like a live wire. Outside, the storm pounded harder, rattling the panes as if it wanted in.
The door banged open.
Walt stormed in, broad-shouldered and scarred, fury written across every line of his face, bringing the rain with him. Beckman’s men had tried to hold him back, but no one stopped Walt when he chose to move.
Boston and Rip charged inside along with Dave’s Secret Service, and bodyguards converged in behind the guy, but Dave held up a hand to stop them.
“I would’ve slit his throat,” Boston said, blunt and dangerous. “But you said stand down, so—”
Rip threw Boston a hard scowl—more warning than joke—and Dave let it hang there, eyes on a guy who appeared to be Titus’s second-in-command.
Winter stepped up and blocked the guy from approaching. The assassin’s hand was on his weapon.
Every other person in the room paused. Still alert. Weapons ready. Waiting.
Dave gave a nod, and Winter stepped back out of the man’s way.
“Walt, I told you to wait outside,” Titus snapped.
“So sue me,” Walt growled before turning on Dave. “You think you know what you’re looking at?”
“I believe I do,” Dave said calmly.
Walt’s voice cut hard. “You don’t know. You’ve never seen what these boys were raised in.”
Viper’s weapon half-raised.
“Stand down,” Titus snapped, eyes flashing. “He’s with me.”
“All the more reason to shoot him in the head,” Viper snarled.
“Knock it off, now,” Dave snapped and order retook the room.
Walt crossed to Titus without hesitation, planting himself like an old warhorse guarding his commander. He glared at Dave, then at Viper.
“You want truth?” Walt’s voice cracked like a whip. “Ask yourself why Tatum spits Titus’s name like poison. Ask why he wants the world to believe Titus is the devil.”
“Because he is,” Viper growled.
“Bullshit!” Walt’s fist slammed the back of Titus’s chair. “Tatum hates him because Titus was the only one with the balls to try and take Tanis down when the truth came out that he was a fuckin’ child molester.”
“Walt,” Titus said, the warning clear.
“No.” Walt snarled. “I’m tellin’ it like it is. Titus tried to eliminate Tanis and failed. And Tatum never forgave him for turning on blood.”
