LOGINThe records room looked like a storm had moved through it in a straight, deliberate line, drawers pulled open but not ransacked, papers disturbed but not scattered carelessly across the floor. Whoever had done this hadn't been searching. They'd known exactly which cabinet to go to, exactly which folder to pull, in and out fast enough that the motion light outside hadn't even tripped."No forced entry." Wade stood in the doorway, arms crossed, jaw tight enough that a muscle ticked visibly along the side of it. "Whoever did this had a key. Or knew where we kept the spare.""How many people know where that spare is," Silas asked, already knowing the answer would narrow the list Wade had shown him that morning down to almost nothing."Six." Wade's voice had gone flat, controlled in the particular way that meant he was holding something back from breaking loose. "Me. You. Deacon. Three of the older patched members who've been here since before Dad died."Reagan stood just inside the doorwa
Deacon waited until the garage emptied out that evening before he pulled the second phone from beneath the loose floorboard under his workbench, the one he'd hidden there three years ago and never once let himself forget was there, no matter how many nights he told himself he was going to dig it up and throw it in the river instead.His hands weren't steady as he typed. They never were, not for this.He's asking questions. Getting close.The reply came back faster than usual, which told him more than the words themselves did.Handle it. You know what happens if this falls apart.Deacon stared at the screen for a long moment, the same way he had every single time for three years, telling himself there was still a version of this where he found a way out that didn't end with either his own life or Silas's trust in ruins. He'd stopped believing that a long time ago. He kept telling himself anyway, because the alternative was admitting he'd been trapped inside this lie for so long there w
Silas found Deacon exactly where he expected to, out behind the garage bay, elbow-deep in the guts of a bike that had been giving him trouble for a week, grease smudged up to his forearms, a cigarette burning forgotten between his lips. He looked up when Silas's shadow fell across the engine, and his whole face broke into the same easy grin it had worn since they were fourteen years old, sneaking out to ride dirt bikes on land that didn't belong to either of them."You look like hell," Deacon said, wiping his hands on a rag that had long since stopped being useful for that. "Heard it was a rough night.""You could say that." Silas leaned against the workbench, keeping his voice light, keeping his face doing exactly what it needed to do to give nothing away. This was Deacon. This was the boy who'd sat with him for three days straight after their father's funeral, who hadn't said much of anything useful, who'd just been there, steady and present, when Silas couldn't stand to be alone wi
Wade was already at his desk when Silas walked in just after eight, two cups of coffee sitting untouched in front of him, the whiskey bottle from two nights ago nowhere in sight. He looked like he hadn't slept either, dark circles carved deep under his eyes, a manila folder squared off precisely in the center of the desk like he'd spent the early hours arranging and rearranging it until it sat exactly right."You said everything," Silas said, closing the door behind him. "Today. That was the deal.""I know what I said." Wade slid one of the coffees across the desk without looking up. "Sit down first."Silas sat, and something in the deliberate calm of his brother's movements made his stomach tighten before a single word had been said."The night Dad told me about the threat against Reagan's family," Wade started, "he told me something else too. Something he made me swear never to repeat to you unless it became necessary." He finally looked up, and there was something raw in his expres
Silas found her on the back porch of the clubhouse a little after two in the morning, wrapped in one of his old jackets that still smelled faintly of motor oil and cedar, staring out at the dark tree line like it might have answers if she looked long enough."You should be asleep," he said, easing the door shut behind him."So should you." She didn't turn around. "Neither of us is going to manage it tonight."He crossed the porch and sat down beside her on the old wooden bench his father had built decades ago, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched, not quite. For a while neither of them said anything. The night was quiet in the specific way small towns got after midnight, crickets somewhere in the grass, an owl calling once from the tree line and going silent again."I keep thinking about what he said," Reagan finally said. "Marcus. About your father telling you a version of things. What did he mean, Silas."Silas exhaled slowly, watching his own breath fog faintly in the c
Nobody moved for a long moment after Marcus's taillights disappeared around the corner. The lot felt colder without him in it, which made no sense, since he'd been the source of every threat hanging over their heads for the last two days, but Silas understood the feeling anyway. Some kinds of danger were worse once you could see the shape of them clearly."Wade." Silas kept his voice level, though it cost him something to do it. "You heard her. When.""Not tonight." Wade's jaw stayed tight, his eyes fixed somewhere past Silas's shoulder, on the empty road where Marcus's car had gone. "You've had one truth dropped on you in the last twenty-four hours that changed everything you thought you knew about your own life. I'm not stacking a second one on top of it in an abandoned lot at midnight.""That's not your call to make.""It is tonight." Wade finally met his eyes, and something in his expression wasn't stubbornness, not really. It looked closer to exhaustion, the particular kind that







