Page 94 of Property of Bones

“You’re not losing it,” Tank says from behind me.

He’s right. I’m not. In fact, I’m calmer than I’ve ever been. It’s not that I’m not worried. I’m scared out of my fucking mind that something’s happening to Sunny. But the rage simmering beneath my skin is holding everything else back. It anchors me. Sharpens me.

I’m not breaking down.

I’m ready to kill.

My hands twitch with the need for my blades…and a victim.

“We’re going to get them back,” Tank says when I don’t respond. “Maverick, who apparently has men, is canvasing the area now.”

“Fucking bastard,” Spike growls from inside the office.

“What is it?” Tank asks as we move back in.

“Look.” Spike points to Foster’s laptop.

Onscreen, a grainy image plays. Three men in black hooded masks slip in through the patio door. Not even a full minute later, they walk out. Two of them carrying Sunny and Abby like sacks of laundry, both limp and unconscious.

My hands curl into fists so tight, my knuckles pop. But I stay calm. Focused.

“It doesn’t really show us anything,” Knuckles says.

“Wait for it,” Foster mutters, eyes glued to the screen.

Seconds later, he freezes the footage and zooms in.

My blood runs cold.

The sleeve of the man carrying Abby slips back just enough to reveal the ink burned into his wrist: a skull, half-hidden behind tendrils of smoke. Simple, dark, and unmistakable.

The mark of Los Fantasmas.

“They’re dead,” I whisper, fury knotting in my chest.

Spike doesn’t waste time. As soon as Foster confirms the timestamp on the footage, he pulls out his phone and steps toward the window, back to the rest of us.

He hits a number and waits.

“Muerte,” he says flatly when the line picks up. “Might want to train your men a little better.”

A pause.

“They didn’t do a great job hiding their brand. One of them flashed your ghost skull clear as fucking day while carrying off our fucking women.”

Another pause.

Then Muerte’s voice comes through, calm and smooth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Shadow.”

Spike chuckles darkly, but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t play dumb,Ghost.If you planned to take our women, why come to our compound last week and make the deal we made?”

There’s silence for half a beat. Then Muerte laughs. A low, amused sound, like he’s genuinely entertained.

“Well,” he says, “that’s a very good question, isn’t it.”

And just like that…

Click.

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