Page 12 of Charging Dodge

“That still doesn’t tell me what it is you think I need to know,” he argues.

“You’re not getting it yet,” I accuse, and I let the irritation show because he needs to understand the stakes. “This isn't about being paranoid or hiding in a basement. It’s about data. You think you're just some kid, but right now, you're a loose cannon, and loose cannons get everyone killed. You watch the rhythm of the street. You look for the black SUV with tinted glass or the guys who don’t fit the vibe of the neighborhood. If they’re loitering too long, you memorize the plates. You don’t call the cops and you don’t start a scene. You vanish. You take a side street, you duck into a flood of people, you just disappear into the commotion of the crowd. That gives you the time to be gone before they even pull into the lot.”

Carter stares at me with his jaw locked. “So I’m just a stalker then? Watching people like a creep?”

“You’re a scout,” I correct, pushing my point. “A ghost. You see everything but leave nothing behind. You don't leave prints on the glass, you don't start trouble, and you never look like you're hunting for a fight. You just exist. That’s the difference between being a target and being the one who makes it out alive. You think you're tough because you can pull a trigger, but that’s the easiest part. The hardest part is making sure you never have to.” I let that sink in. He’s fidgety, wanting action, but he's finally paying attention. I need to make sure he knows this isn't a game, it’s a life skill. “And if you're ever in doubt? If you feel that prickle on your neck like someone’s watching you? You don’t wait for a sign. You don’t wait to see if it’s just your nerves. You move. You hit the exit. You don’t fight if you can run, and you blend in to keep yourself safe. You ain’t a soldier, kid. You’re a survivor. Learn the difference or don’t bother asking for advice.”

Carter holds onto that tough guy act for a few more minutes, but he eventually lets it slide. He shifts back into the confused kid I saw earlier instead of the delinquent he’s trying so hard to be. We’ve got a solid plan now, though I know I’m gonna need my brothers to help me pull it off. As soon as morning hits, I’ve got work to do. I’m calling Glacier first to get my VP in the loop. Then, I’m ringing up Phoenix. He’s the club’s IT guy, and we need him to work his magic if we’re gonna keep these people hidden.

They need new identities, from birth certificates to social security cards, and these documents have to stand up to any scrutiny. I won’t settle for cheap forgeries. One slip up and the whole safety net collapses. These kids deserve a history that looks untouched, a paper trail so perfect it makes them ghosts to anyone searching. Phoenix is the only guy I trust with this. He builds entire lives out of nothing, pulling digital records from thin air like a magician. We’re committed to this now. Failure is off the table. My brothers are going to bust their humps to make this happen, but they know the stakes. They owe me this much, and I'd do the same for them without blinking. They've got my back, and I've got theirs. I need to corner Adalynn tomorrow. She’s still withholding details, and I can’t shield them if I'm missing pieces of the puzzle. She needs to spill everything. Unfortunately, I can’t squeeze those answers out of her tonight, though. She’s already whisked Carter inside, and from the sound of it, she's still tearing him a new one for that tough guy routine he tried to pull on the patio.

The static in my skull keeps me from nodding off. Every time I blink, I see Adalynn’s face, locked in that stubborn mask of survival, and I hear the way Carter talks, trying to sound like a man when he’s still just a boy. I didn’t plan on this. I came home for peace and quiet, not to babysit a family running from a death sentence. The smoke from my cigarette curls up into the darkness, blending into the shadows that seem to be closing in. I drain the bottle and set it on the railing. It’s going to be a long night. I keep replaying every word of our conversation, searching for a gap in the plan, some mistake I’m bound to make before the sun crests the horizon. I’m not built for nurturing. I’m built for the club, for the grind, and for the violence that comes with this patch. Adding these kids to the mix feels like inviting a hurricane into my living room. Yet, when I think about leaving them to the wolves, the anger burns brighter than the booze ever could. I’m stuck here, wide awake, staring into the abyss of the yard, knowing full well that tomorrow brings the real test. My gut tells me this is the moment everything changes. I just have to hope I don’t bleed out before we get to the other side.

My thoughts slow as the haze clears. It feels like ages since any task actually ignites a spark in my chest. Most days, I just move through the motions, acting like the leader my brothers require, but there’s always been an empty gap where real ambition used to live. I spot potential betrayals everywhere. That’s the default setting in this lifestyle, anticipating the folks closest to you will twist the blade. Survival becomes a habit, a constant state of defense. I spent two years barely keeping my head above water, wearing the crown while waiting for the next catastrophe to shatter me. Saving these siblings, offering them a chance at surviving when everyone else turned away, stirs something ancient inside me that’s been dormant. It’s no longer just about the brotherhood. It’s about the crusade.

The second the numbness vanishes my instinct whispers that this isn’t merely another headache. I’m finished with floating. I’m done watching from the sidelines of my own life. It’s time to stop waiting for the hammer to fall and start swinging it.

I now have a purpose, one that will hopefully get me up off the ground and start being thankful that I’m still alive to live. It’s strange feeling this appreciation for breathing, something that felt foreign only yesterday. I'm no longer just marking time, killing the clock until the inevitable happens. This objective provides a concrete cause, a reason to justify the scars I carry. I’m finished with the souring resentment that rotted me from within. It’s time to wrap my knuckles around the consequences and see this struggle through to the final round.

My vision clears, fixing on the route in front of me, and for once, the way forward doesn't look like a dead end. I will not miss this opportunity. I owe it to these siblings, and honestly, I owe it to the man I used to be. I won’t let this moment slip away because my path forward no longer feels voidless. For once it doesn’t lead into another wall. I’m done letting resentment hollow me out from the inside. It’s time to face the fallout head-on and fight this battle through to the last round to justify every scar I bear. I’ll safeguard them and ensure their survival by becoming the catalyst for their triumph. Under my watch, these siblings are going to thrive instead of just getting by.

I’m their bedrock.

I’m the unshakable force keeping them grounded and guaranteeing their victory. There’s no more backing down and no more losing ground to the shadows. I’m their iron shield from here on out. They’re mine to protect, and as long as I’ve got breath in my lungs, no one is laying a finger on them. This vow is etched into the night as a promise written in the blood I’m willing to shed. I don’t care what stands in my way or who’s tracking them down. They belong to me now and I’m bearing this responsibility until the very end.

CHAPTER TEN

Adalynn

Sunlight leaks around the edges of the curtains, and the first thing I feel is the heat creeping up my neck. My skin burns hot. Shame does that. It keeps playing the scene from last night over and over behind my eyelids. I shouldn’t have let him talk to Dodge that way. Carter thinks he’s ready to step up, to be the man, but he just made us look like a disaster waiting to happen.

I stare at the ceiling while dust motes dance in the light. How do I face Dodge now? After Carter’s outburst on the porch, I’m sure he sees us as a liability. We’re already taking up space in his mom’s house, and now we’re a headache he didn't sign up for. A ticking time bomb. I pull the quilt up until it covers my chin. It smells like clean laundry, not the road, but the comfort feels wrong. My stomach knots up.

What if he’s already decided we’re too much work?

What if he packs our bags and escorts us out of town?

I have to fix this. I have to prove we’re worth the risk before he realizes we’re just sinking weight.

“I’m sorry,” Carter whispers. He rolls onto his side, the mattress groaning under the weight of his guilt. He stares at me, his eyes rimmed with red. “I don't know what got into me, sis.”

I swipe my tongue across my dry lips. I try to construct some excuse for him, some way to justify his outburst, but the words refuse to form. Anger flares hot behind my eyes. I want to lash out. I want to shake him until he understands how close we came to losing everything. Then I look at him and I see the hurt in his eyes. The heat drains from my chest, leaving only a cold ache to reside there. I can’t take this out on him. He’s just a boy forced to bear the weight of a world that shattered around us. He’s still learning how to be a person, let alone a man.

“Today’s a new day, Carter,” I say as I force myself to meet his eyes. “We’ve got to make better choices from here on out.”

Avoiding my eyes, he focuses instead on the creased blanket clustered between us, though he remains facing my direction. “I will, I promise,” he vows, his voice fracturing slightly in a way that confirms he finally understands the gravity of our situation.

I lean back against the headboard, feeling the rough wood press into my spine. It’s hard to breathe in this room that isn’t ours, with all of us cramped into a space that feels too small for the secrets we’re carrying. My comfort isn’t the priority here, it’s keeping the four of us from shattering. “We’re dependent on Dodge now. You saw to that, and you didn’t give me any room to object, but we’re here. We’ve got to deal with the fallout. We’ve got to find a way to trust him to make the right calls, the kind that won’t have us buried six feet under.”

He stares at his hands, his knuckles grasping the edge of the blanket. He’s wrestling with his own anger, trying to bury the kid he used to be. “And me going on a one man revenge scheme won’t keep us that way,” he says, more to himself than me. He looks up, his expression hardening. “I get it, Adalynn. I’m done acting like I can take on the world alone. I’m just… I’m tired of being scared.”

He’s said this to me before, and I believed him then just like I do now, but there’s something different in his tone this time that scares the everloving shit out of me. “What are you thinking, Carter?”

“That I’m a failure,” he mumbles.

Reaching out, I place my hand on his shoulder and ask, “How do you figure that?”

“I shouldn’t have just grabbed Amelia and Noah and fled back to your car that day after you picked us up from school and brought us home. I should’ve stayed behind to try and save Mom and Dad.”