Page 41 of Stormy Knight

Glancing around, he noticed a small bottle and a syringe laying off to the side. Shoving the knife into Paul’s thigh Reeves unwrapped the rag from his hand before picking up the bottle he read the label, fentanyl. Pulling out his phone again he quickly called Jackson. “Fentanyl, that’s what he injected Stormy with,”he snapped into the phone, letting his brother know how dire the situation was now. Stormy might have been given a lethal dose. Hanging up, he picked up the used syringe.

A sudden knock at the door broke the brief silence that followed, quick and hard. Marco. He stepped inside, his usual nonchalance gone, replaced with a kind of quiet tension that mirrored Reeves’ own. “The area is clear for now,” Marco’s voice was tight, with a hint of urgency. Which told Reeves he needed to wrap things up.

He’d wanted to let Paul’s pain linger, but he needed to get to Stormy. Sticking the needle into the bottle he loaded it with a lethal dose of the drug. Tossing the bottle to Marco, Reeves crouched down in front of the lump of human waste that hung limply in the chair. Grabbing one of the man’s arms, he used a finger to flick the skin in the crease of the arm. The strong vein came to life and he injected the drug into his system.

It would look like a drug deal gone wrong, a rival dealer doling out a warning with the kind of brutality that sent a clear message. Marco shifted beside him, a silent presence, his eyes scanning the area like a hawk. No words needed between them. They had done this before… more times than either of them cared to admit. They knew what was at stake.

“We should go,” Marco said, his voice low. His eyes flicked around the room, taking in the view with a brief scan, then back to Reeves. “We should gather up anything you touched.”

Reeves picked up the rag from the floor, yanked the knife from Paul’s thigh and stepped back. His eyes watched as the asshole foamed at the mouth as his body shook, then he went limp. Placing his fingers against the man’s throat feeling for a pulse a satisfying smirk spread across Reeves’ face. Stepping back, he turned to Marco. “It would be easier to torch the place.”

“It’s not like it doesn’t happen down here all the time.” Marco said his voice void of emotion.

“Did you bring a gas can?” Reeves saw the bored look Marco gave him. “Lets get to work.”

It took minutes to set the fire. They had just enough time to get out of the area before the entire building went up in flames. “Let’s get out of here,” he said finally, his voice cold unfeeling.

Marco didn’t argue. They didn’t need words. The two men shared a glance… understanding, silent, deadly… and then they walked out the door.

27

Reeves arrived at the hospital. As he walked in, he didn’t make pleasantries as nurses and hospital workers greeted him. Pushing the elevator button, he checked the time on his watch. When the door opened, he stepped in and looked at his reflection in the elevator mirror. He saw his shirt was dotted with Paul’s blood. He didn’t care, he needed to put his eyes on Stormy.

Stepping off the elevator, he saw his family gathered in the waiting room, their faces a mix of tension and quiet resignation. Monroe, Parker, Jackson, and Whiskey were all there. Even Maria. He paused for a moment, scanning their expressions before he stepped further into the room.

He could feel the weight of their eyes on him as he walked, his heart pounding in his chest. Each step felt like it took him further from any kind of hope, yet closer to the truth. He drew in a breath, trying to steady himself for whatever they’d tell him about Stormy’s condition. The air in the room was thick, heavy with anticipation.

“How is she?” he finally asked, his voice quieter than he intended. They all knew how much Stormy meant to him.

Monroe was the first to speak, his jaw tight as he looked up from his seat. “We don’t know yet,” he said, a touch of frustration in his voice.

Parker’s gaze was a little softer. “The doctors are still with her.”

Whiskey remained silent, clearly torn up by what had happened to her best friend. A woman closer than a sister. Tears filled her green eyes as she continued to stare at him.

Jackson, usually the steady one, looked uneasy, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His shoulders were tight, as though he were holding onto something—something too heavy to let go of.

Maria stood near the window, her back to the room, her hands clasped in front of her. She turned slowly, meeting his eyes. There was a heaviness in her expression, a quiet understanding of the not knowing, and what might come.

He could feel the knot in his stomach tightening. “How bad is it?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.

“She was crashing when we got here,” Monroe said softly, his voice cracked but steady. “But she’s in good hands. We just… we need to stay positive.”

He nodded, though the cold dread in his chest was threatening to swallow him whole. What if this was the end? What if Stormy couldn’t pull through?

But he wouldn’t let himself think that way. Not yet. He had to stay positive. For him. For Stormy. For everyone.

He clenched his fists at his sides, trying to push past the panic rising in him. “I need to see her,” he said, his voice firm now.

“They’ll come get us when we can go in,” Whiskey spoke, her voice low, filled with fear and sadness.

When the news finally came, it hit him like a breath of fresh air. Something he couldn’t grasp fully at first.Stable.

The word echoed in his mind as the nurse delivered the update with a professional calmness, which only added to the surreal relief sweeping over him.

“Stormy’s stable,” the nurse said, her voice steady but kind. “She’s being moved into a private room for observation. We’ll keep monitoring her, but... for now, she’s out of immediate danger.”

Hearing the words were like the world had briefly paused, and in that silence, he could feel the weight lifting off his shoulders. Reeves took a breath, letting it out slowly, an exhale of relief. The tension coiled in his chest began to ease, loosening bit by bit.

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