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Marcus stumbles again and falls to the floor, his bravado crumbling under the onslaught of Isaac’s blows. Isaac seizes the moment, twisting Marcus's wrist in an iron grip, the same hand that had dared to touch the girl. There's a snap, clean and final—a punctuation mark to end the sentence of Marcus's transgression.

With Marcus whimpering on the floor, Isaac leans down, his whisper an ugly hiss. "Touch anyone without their consent again, and I'll break the other one." It's a promise etched in pain, a vow born from the darkness within him.

He retrieves his backpack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder and rushes out of the locker room. Heads turn, eyes wide, mouths agape, but Isaac moves past them, untouched and untouchable.

CHAPTER 27

ISAAC

I survey the floor from my usual upstairs spot, soaking in the chaos, the loud music, and the drunk laughter. Occasionally, through the twirling club lights, Hawk comes into view. His movements are precise and almost hypnotic as he handles the rowdy weekend crowd. He fits in seamlessly as if he's always belonged here. With the rest of us. With the rest of the Hellhounds living in the underbelly of Purgatory.

My mind drifts off and yesterday's encounter with him in the deserted corridor comes flooding back.

I was grappling with intense, residual emotions and yearning after what had happened in my office. The blaze inside me simply refused to be extinguished. Like magnets drawn to each other, we surrendered ourselves to this madness. I pushed him against the wall and kissed him stupidly. The thrill of being discovered had kicked my adrenaline into overdrive. I was hard in seconds. This arousal clings stubbornly even now as an uninvited guest.

"Boss," Jeremy says over the noise, appearing at my side and breaking my concentration. "We need to talk." He looks tired and worn out.

"About what?" I ask, not taking my eyes off Hawk.

"Something important," Jeremy insists, his voice mixing with the pounding of the bass lines. He follows my line of vision and I’m momentarily stuck between the rush of being caught and guilt.

Guilt over being so fucking distracted because of Hawk when Jessica’s still in the hospital. Thankfully, last night she came to and Jeremy spent all night by her side.

I shift my attention to him. "Let's go to my office," I shout over the music.

As we move away from the railing and enter the private space, I immediately regret my decision. All my mind can think of is Hawk’s lips stretched around my cock and the way his mouth felt when he deep-throated me. He has impressive skills.

"Alright," I say, closing the door behind us and leaning against the desk. "What's going on, J?"

"I’ve got some intel..." Jeremy starts, but then hesitates. For a moment, he looks conflicted, torn between some obscure forces. But ultimately, I don't need him to spell it out for me. The knots in my stomach already tell me that this isn't good news that will follow. I sense it with my gut. A cursed but useful habit I developed while in prison.

"Spit it out, J," I urge him quietly.

We’re all on edge and I feel like I’m tearing at the seams because of all the unknown variables. Because of the puzzle around me I can’t solve.

"Alright… But listen to me, Blade," he rasps out. "Just listen for once." He exhales deeply as if to give me a moment to prepare. "Word on the street, the Feds are sniffing around."

Fuck.

That’s my brain’s initial reaction. "Go on," I prompt him calmly. No need to panic just yet. Right?

"Looks like someone's talking to the cops, Isaac," he says before going eerily quiet again—leaving only the high-pitchedsilence lingering between us. "I told you Solovey was trouble. We had it under control—squeaky clean—before he showed up. The Russian’s bringing too much heat, man. Shit started going sideways when he showed up."

I nod, my mind making various calculations, racing through countless scenarios and probable answers.

"You know who else showed up recently?" Jeremy hisses out.

I don’t react but on the inside, I’m all tense.

"Cody Smith." He spits out Hawk’s name like it’s the piss someone spiked his drink with while he wasn’t looking. "I'm telling you he's the one with the loose mouth."

There’s silence in the room. Dark, suffocating silence. Up until now, I refused to see it. In my line of work, things happen. And Hawk happened in the most interesting time for my crew. Coincidence?

"Who told you about the Feds?" I’m still skeptical about the legitimacy of Jeremy’s sources. But he grew up on the street. He knows people who know shit.

"The entire fucking Enclave is talking about it and half of Morelli’s guys."

The Enclave guys are glorified hipsters with fancy cars. I don’t mingle with the likes of them. But I don’t tell Jeremy who to be friends with. But the Italians? "You know better than to talk to Tony’s crew," I warn. We don’t cross paths unless necessary. The peace between the Thoreau and the Morelli is built on old blood and current mutual avoidance. The young don’t do business. Only the old.

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