Page 97 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

Webb

The living room was strangely quiet—just the hum of the TV filled the charged air. Most of us were slouched in chairs or spread out on the floor, laptops open and phones buzzing quietly as we tried to track Barris’s next move.

I sat on the edge of the couch, my elbows braced against my knees, hands loosely clenched together as I stared without really seeing.

Then, the anchor’s voice sharpened, slicing through the room like a blade.

“We interrupt your programming for breaking news out of Orlando?—”

Every head lifted at the same time.

On screen, shaky footage showed Maddox being hustled through a courthouse hallway, surrounded by deputies. His designer suit was wrinkled, his face pale and twisted in a way that almost made me smile.

Almost.

“We've just learned that Colin Maddox has been officially charged,” the anchor said, her tone practically crackling.“Sources close to the case report that his own mother has agreed to testify against him and provide proof of criminal activity.”

A few low whistles broke out across the room.

Jesse leaned forward, shaking his head. “Damn, Gladys really went for the throat.”

The view shifted to the county sheriff standing behind a podium, papers fanned out before him.

“As of this morning,” the sheriff began, his voice even and grim, “Mr. Maddox is facing multiple state and federal charges. We are coordinating with federal prosecutors to pursue RICO charges, among other potential charges. Mr. Maddox will be remanded without bail pending judicial review.”

Reporters buzzed with questions as the sound of cameras taking photos suddenly grew chaotic.

The sheriff barely blinked as he added, “We thank the public for the overwhelming number of tips and evidence submitted. Anyone with further information is encouraged to call the dedicated tip line shown at the bottom of your screen.”

The number flashed up on the banner below.

Jesse squinted at it and snorted. “Should’ve made it 1800-IM-A-DUMBASS.”

Across the room, Wes laughed from where he sat sprawled in an armchair. “Nah. Should be 1800-IM-FUCKED. That's way more fitting.”

A few chuckles broke out, even from Marcus and Elijah—who were both normally steady as bedrock—but I barely heard them.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen. It should have felt like a victory—Maddox’s empire was collapsing, his crimes being dragged into the light for everyone to see. And Gladys…she was a goddamn warrior, holding her ground and making sure the world couldn’t look away.

And yet, my gut twisted hard because Gabby wasn’t here to see any of it. She wasn’t here for the takedown, the reckoning, the justice. And the worst part—we still didn’t know exactly where she was.

I knew she’d run and that Ira had helped her. We had a few leads, but it wasn’t enough. And if she was out there in the bayou, alone, injured, trying to stay hidden, Barris would find her. That bastard would sniff her out like a bloodhound if we didn’t get to him first.

I clenched my fists tighter, feeling the pressure dig into my palms.

“Webb,” Jesse called quietly, noticing the look on my face. We’ll find her. We’ll find him, too.”

I nodded stiffly, but my chest felt like it was caving in. Gabby was tough—maybe the toughest woman I’d ever met. But she was hurt. Vulnerable. And the bayou—while beautiful and quiet on the surface—was something else entirely. It was wild, unpredictable, and unforgiving. And so was Barris. If we didn’t move fast enough, I might lose her before I ever got to tell her the whole truth that I wasn’t just in love with her. I loved her like my soul depended on it.

We were still glued to the screens when a sharp knock at the door broke through the room’s tense focus. Everyone froze fora beat—hands hovering near weapons and Malcolm instinctively snapping his laptop half-shut.

Marcus was closest to the door. He moved quickly, peeking through the crack—and then opened it wider with a stunned look.

Standing there, holding two bulging grocery bags in each hand like she was delivering homemade pies, was Gladys.

She smiled warmly, utterly unaffected by the suspicious stares she was getting. "I figured you boys might be hungry, so I brought some provisions.”

No one moved at first—but it didn’t matter. She breezed right in, patting Marcus on the back as she passed, completely unbothered by our reactions. “Oh, stop looking at me like I’m here to kill you. After everything, we’re practically old friends. Now, where’s your kitchen?”

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