Page 24 of Vows of Ruin

I nod once, chest tight. “We need to lock this down tighter than ever.”

Torque steps forward, expression unreadable. “You’re not just a target to him. You’re the obsession.”

Wrenley’s voice is quiet, but steel-edged. “Then let him obsess. When he steps close enough… we end it.”

It’s been a week since the greenhouse. A week since the name Sebastian Montclair detonated like shrapnel inside our world and embedded itself in Wrenley’s blood. There’s been no letters. No sightings. Not even a whisper of his name. Nothing. He’s a ghost, worse than that, he’s a patient one. The kind that waits in silence just to make you flinch first.

We’re posted up in the club apartment, after closing time. Torque and Wrecker are helping me comb through the weapons cache behind the false panel under the built-ins. Routine, but not really. There’s nothing routine about this anymore.

The Serpents posted at the mansion are checking in. Quiet all night, they say. But their voices carry that edge. Everyone’s just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Max went to Doc’s place, trying to dig through Sebastian's psych profile, searching for something that might tell us what’s coming. The air is still, like the moments right before a storm.

Torque slams a magazine into place and gives me a sidelong glance. “Oh god, please stop looking at me and just ask.”

I arch a brow. “Ask what?”

Wrecker snorts from where he’s leaning on the edge of the kitchen counter, sipping a bottle of water like he’s not eavesdropping.

“Don’t play dumb, I know Wrenley told you already.”

I look between them. Torque’s expression is a mixture of resignation and defiance.

“Doc and I… have been seeing each other for a couple of months now.”

I blink, then let out a low laugh. “Seriously?”

Torque shrugs. “Yeah. It's not… complicated.”

“Good for you, brother,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “She’s solid.”

“She’s been trying to get me to tell everyone,” Torque mutters. “Wrenley found out when she showed up at the house." He shoots a look at Wrecker. "I was… in a towel.”

Wrecker throws his hands like he’s been absolved. “Hey. Don’t look at me like that. She made me take her. If I didn’t I was scared she’d kill me and hide the body in that rose garden she’s always ranting about.”

Torque narrows his eyes at him. “You’re a rat.”

Wrecker just grins.

I’m about to needle Torque again when my phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out, already keyed up.

Little Warrior

“Yeah, baby?” I answer.

“All of you. Office. Now.”

The line goes dead.

I’m up with no hesitation. “Move.”

We’re down the back hallway in seconds. Wrecker already slipped a pistol into his waistband, and Torque’s gripping a short-barrel rifle like he’s praying for someone to give him a reason to use it.

The door swings open, and she’s in there, commanding the room with that deadly calm she’s mastered over the years.

“…put them at the table in the center of the club,” she’s saying to Hunter, who’s tapping rapidly on a tablet. “I want serpents posted throughout the floor. Clear out all the other employees. I don’t want anyone caught in the crossfire if this goes south.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, stepping in.

She doesn’t flinch when she looks at me.