Page 33 of Peak’s Code

Captain sat at the head of the table, fingers steepled beneath his beard. Ruin leaned against the wall beside the door, shotgun resting across his forearms. Every patched member of the Grave Prowlers watched Mercer like a pack of wolves waiting for permission to attack their prey.

Maeve stood beside Peak. She hadn't said a word since they'd ridden back to the clubhouse. Her eyes never left Mercer, but then again, Mercer’s never left her. "You've gotten prettier."

“Go fuck yourself,” Maeve spat. Peak took some sick satisfaction in her response to the guy.

Mercer's smile was slow. "Cancer took your mother, didn't it?" Peak heard Maeve inhale sharply. Without thinking, he stepped half a pace in front of her. Mercer seemed to notice, and he laughed.

“Ahh, the protector,” Mercer drawled. Peak's jaw tightened. Mercer was testing his restraint, and he had to admit he was losing it.

Captain slammed his palm onto the table. "Enough." The room fell silent. "You know why you're here."

Mercer leaned back as far as the zip ties allowed. "I imagine it's because your little hacker here tackled me to the ground." A few brothers chuckled, but Peak didn't.

Captain's voice remained flat. "Where's Wren Carter?"

Mercer's smile faded. "I don't know." Warden crossed the room in three strides and drove a fist into Mercer's ribs. The crack echoed through the clubhouse, and Mercer grunted. Peak had seen enough interrogations over the years to recognize trained resistance. Pain wouldn't break him—not quickly, at least.

Captain knew it too. "It would be in your best interest to answer the question."

Mercer shrugged. "I’ve forgotten what the question even was."

"Where is Wren Carter?” Warden growled.

"No idea,” Mercer said. Warden landed another punch to his ribs, and Mercer grunted. Peak leaned against the wall, watching. Mercer was controlling the pace of the interrogation. He was buying time, and that bothered Peak.

Mercer looked toward the security monitors mounted in the corner, and something felt wrong. His eyes lingered on the front gate camera, and Peak checked for any movement, but saw nothing. Still, something felt off.

Maeve stepped forward. "Can I ask him something?" Captain looked at Peak, and he gave a slight nod. Captain motioned her forward. Maeve stopped inches from Mercer. "So—” Her voice was calm even though Peak knew that she had to be anything but calm. “Is Wren still alive?"

Mercer's eyes met hers, and for the first time since Peak had met him, the man hesitated. It was barely noticeable, less than a second, but Peak caught it. "So you don't know,” Maeve said.

Mercer smiled again. "I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to." Maeve folded her arms over her chest. "You blinked." Mercer's smile disappeared, and Peak's pulse quickened. Maeve had landed a hit to the guy without having to use her fists at all. She was a smart woman, and Mercer’s confidence was beginning to fade.

"You've never been able to lie to me." Maeve continued quietly. "You remember?" Mercer's jaw flexed. "When you interviewed me after the Richmond operation." Peak looked sharply at Maeve. Had Mercer interviewed her? Maeve acted like she barely knew the guy, but now she was saying that they had a shared past.

Mercer noticed Peak’s surprise. "You haven't told your biker boyfriend everything."

Peak moved before he realized he was moving. His fist slammed into Mercer's jaw hard enough to send the chair skidding across the floor. The room went silent as Peak stood over him. "Watch your mouth."

Mercer spat blood onto the concrete and then smiled up at Peak. "Now I know."

Peak frowned. "Know what?"

"You care about her,” Mercer said. He wanted to tell the guy that he was wrong, but for some reason, he had become invested in Maeve and her story from the start.

Maeve reached for Peak's arm. "Don't." He looked at her like she had lost her mind. "He's trying to make you angry."

"I already am angry,” Peak said.

"I know." Her hand remained on his forearm. "He wants you emotionally compromised." Peak took one slow breath, and then another before stepping back. She was right, and he was better than that.

Mercer chuckled softly. "Good girl."

Maeve's expression never changed. "Tell me where Wren is."

"No,” Mercer said.