Page 37 of Wrecker

On the east side of the third floor, in what used to be a property manager’s office, I spotted a rolled tube of paper jammed against the back leg of an old, rusted desk.

“What the hell’s that?” Wolf muttered.

I crouched, snatched the cylinder, and tipped it so the papers inside slipped out. Then I unrolled them on a half-collapsed couch. The blood in my veins turned to acid. “What the fuck?”

They were old training schematics. Diagrams I’d created back in the service—test scenarios, practice plans. Where to plant charges. What angles to use for max impact. My name was scrawled on the bottom corner of each one. It wasmyfucking playbook.

“Those sons of bitches,” I muttered.

“What is it?” Midnight asked.

“They’ve been using my old plans. My techniques. Copying every fucking thing I ever taught them.” My voice was low, lethal. “That’s why these buildings are falling so clean.”

“You think Calder’s crew stole your shit?”

“I know they did.”

Ward Calder didn’t have to say a word.

I felt him walk in.

“Well, well,” a voice drawled from the doorway. “Didn’t expect to see you here without your little shadow.”

I turned slowly, and there he was. Standing with that smug fucking face, holding a detonator in one hand. “Shame. I was hoping she’d be here. Would’ve made the boom even more worth it. Kill two birds with…well, you get the metaphor.”

“You sick fuck,” I snarled, stepping forward.

“Don’t get noble now, Owens.” He waved his other hand and flicked a button, initiating a deadman’s switch, now clutched in his grip. “Step back,” he said, eyes wild. “Try anything, and we all go up in a fucking fireball.”

“You suicidal now, Calder?” I asked, low. “Not your usual style.”

“I know you found the payouts,” he hissed. “The trail. My name on that shell company. I’m a dead man walking once that shit hits the media.”

Midnight shifted beside me, fingers twitching near his weapon. I gave a slight shake of my head. Calder was wired. One twitch, and he’d take the whole place with him.

Then another voice cut through the tension like a slow drag of a blade across a throat. “Well, shit. Y’all started the party without me?”

Kane’s voice echoed through the broken hallway like a goddamn movie entrance. He strolled in as though he had all the time in the world, dark shades tucked into his half-buttoned shirt, like he’d just rolled out of bed and grabbed the first set ofclothes he saw. Two of his men hovered behind him, weapons drawn.

Calder flinched and turned toward the sound, distracted for half a breath.

It was all I needed.

I lunged.

We crashed into the desk with a bang, rolling it across cracked linoleum as I fought for the switch. My fist smashed into his jaw. He hit my shoulder, so I slammed him into the ground hard, and the detonator skittered away. He shouted with fury as his elbow cracked against my temple. I took the hit and grabbed for the deadman switch.

He fought like he had nothing left to lose—wild, fast, and dirty. But I was bigger, stronger, had trained longer, and I was a fuck of a lot meaner. I got the switch away from him and twisted the device hard until it snapped.

Then I clocked him in the jaw and let him drop.

Kane crouched beside me, one brow raised. “Looked like you had it handled.”

I blew out a breath and wiped blood off my brow. “Then why the fuck are you here?”

He grinned as he got to his feet and grasped my hand, pulling up next to him.

“Ran into Deviant at the compound,” he said with a shrug. “Said you might need backup. Figured I’d stop by before talking to Fox about borrowing Racer.”

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