Page 30 of Peak’s Code

Peak's expression turned to stone. "You sure?"

"I'll never forget his face." She crouched beside the unconscious operator, her voice barely above a whisper. "His name—” She closed her eyes, reaching back through eighteen months of nightmares. “His name is Mercer."

Peak frowned. "You know him?"

"I know what he is." She looked up, fear and fury warring in her eyes. "He's not an Iron Serpent."

Peak felt the ground shift beneath everything he thought he understood. "Then who the hell is he?"

Maeve's answer came in a whisper that chilled the underground chamber more than the damp air ever could. "He's the man they send when they need someone to disappear forever."

Just saying Mercer’s name made bile rise in Maeve's throat. For eighteen months she'd tried to forget his face, but she never could. Even now, kneeling beside his unconscious body, every scar, every line, every strand of silver threaded through his dark hair came rushing back like it had happened yesterday.

Peak crouched beside her. "You know him." It wasn't a question.

Maeve swallowed hard. "I wish I didn't." She couldn't stop staring at the serpent tattoo behind his ear. She'd seen it once before, the night her world ended.

"It was raining,” she whispered.

Peak looked at her. "What?"

"The night Wren disappeared." Her voice sounded distant, even to herself. "It was raining that night. I traced her phone after she stopped answering, and I found her car behind the concert venue." She closed her eyes. "It was pouring by that point." Peak remained silent. He seemed to instinctively know she needed to tell him her story. It wasn’t for him, but for herself.

"The driver's door was open to her car, and the headlights were still on. I thought she'd gone looking for me." She laughed bitterly. "I kept yelling her name." Her fingers trembled as she remembered. "No one answered." Peak watched her carefully. She'd been composed from the moment he'd met her, but now she knew that she looked like someone reliving a nightmare.

"I heard footsteps." She looked at Mercer's unconscious face. "I thought it was Wren, but it wasn't." Her breathing became uneven. "He walked out of the alley carrying her backpack." Peak's jaw tightened. "He smiled like it was just another Tuesday." The words came out barely above a whisper.

"What'd he say?" Peak asked quietly. Maeve could still hear his voice—calm, polite, and professional, like they were discussing the weather.

"He told me—” She squeezed her eyes shut. "That smart women should know when to stop asking questions." She felt anger burn low in her chest from just the memory, but she continued anyway. "I tried to run past him, but I only made it three steps." She touched the scar hidden beneath her hairline. "He hit me, and the last thing I saw was Wren's backpack lying in a puddle." Her voice cracked.

Silence filled the underground chamber. Even the dripping water seemed to stop. Peak looked at Mercer differently now. Before, he'd been an enemy combatant, but now, he was the man who'd stolen eighteen months of someone's life.

Maeve took a shaky breath. "When I woke up, I was in the hospital. The police said someone found me unconscious. There were no witnesses, no fingerprints, and no surveillance videos.”

Peak frowned. "They found nothing?" he asked.

She laughed without humor. "Mercer cleans up after himself."

Peak studied the unconscious man. "Not this time."

Maeve looked at him. "What do you mean by that?” she asked.

"He made mistakes this time,” Peak said.

She shook her head. "No, he wanted us to find him."

Peak nodded slowly. "I think you're right." Mercer hadn't worn a mask, and he didn’t hide the tattoo. He'd walked into the Grave Prowler’s territory with professionals instead of bikers. He wanted to be seen and wanted Maeve to recognize him, and that realization made her skin crawl.

Mercer's eyelids fluttered, and Maeve instinctively reached for the fallen rifle. Peak was faster. He pressed the gun’s barrel against Mercer's forehead. "Don't fucking move,” Peak growled. Mercer's eyes slowly opened, and for one brief second, he seemed confused. Then recognition hit as his gaze shifted from Peak to Maeve, and he smiled. It was the exact same smile she'd seen eighteen months ago—cold, patient, and completely without remorse.

"Miss Carter,” Mercer breathed. His voice was smooth despite the blood running down the side of his face. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to go to the Grave Prowlers."

Maeve felt every muscle in her body tighten. "You remember me."

Mercer chuckled. "I remember all my unfinished business."

Peak stepped closer. "You're done talking."