Page 83 of Wings
I selected a new crayon—blue this time—and returned to my butterfly. One wing purple, one wing pink, now blue spots because butterflies could be anything they wanted in my world.
"How do we get the phone?" Duke asked, ever practical.
"That's the trick," Tyson admitted. "He keeps it on him during runs. Paranoid about exactly this kind of situation. We'd need to get close during a pickup, create some kind of distraction . . ."
Their voices continued, planning with the casual efficiency of men who'd orchestrated violence before. I colored my butterfly's antennae, made them sparkle with silver, gave them tiny hearts at the tips because even butterfly antennae deserved love.
Later, in the nursery, Gabe was talking me through the plan. It felt good to have him explain it to me—like he cared about my enough to be honest.
"The Serpents do their main cash collection every Tuesday night," he said, rubbing soothing circles on my back that did nothing for the knots in my stomach. "It's like clockwork. Has been for years."
I forced myself to focus on facts, not feelings—especially not the scary ones. "How does it work?"
"Each lieutenant has a territory." His voice stayed clinical. "Alex handles the north side drops—three locations, always in the same order. Murphy's Bar at eleven, the strip club on Harmon at midnight, then finishing at an old body shop on Riverside around 2 AM."
"Body shop?" The words caught in my throat. I knew that place. Knew it too well.
"That's where he reconciles the numbers before heading to their clubhouse. Counts the cash, logs it in the app, takes his pictures for the digital trail." Gabe shifted me slightly, pullingout his phone to show me surveillance photos. "Baron says he's usually there for about forty minutes. Alone except for two prospects who watch the doors."
The images made my chest tight. Alex at the shop's entrance, face illuminated by security lights. He looked tired. Older. The drugs had carved hollows in his cheeks that hadn't been there when I left.
"How do you know he keeps the phone on him?" I asked, proud of how steady my voice came out.
Gabe swiped to another photo, zooming in. "See the chain on his belt? That's where he keeps the burner with the cash-app. Never leaves his sight during drops. Paranoid about someone doing exactly what we're planning."
Ironic. All that paranoia and he'd still stolen from his own club. Like wearing a bulletproof vest while playing Russian roulette.
"We'd need a distraction to get close enough," Gabe continued, tactical mind already three steps ahead. "Something to draw attention, create chaos. In and out while everyone's reacting to whatever fire we set."
The plan unfolded with elegant simplicity. Create a diversion at the body shop. Lift the phone during the chaos. Download the transaction history. Return the phone before Alex noticed. Send the data anonymously to the Serpents' president. Let their internal justice handle the rest while the Heavy Kings stayed clean.
Clean. Like there was anything clean about setting someone up to die, even if they'd dug their own grave.
"What kind of distraction?" I heard myself ask, though I was already forming ideas.
"Still working on that." Frustration bled through his controlled tone. "Need something big enough to cause chaos butnot so big it brings cops. Can't have official attention on that shop when—"
When the Serpents come to collect their stolen money. And their thief.
"Kiara?" Gabe's hand stilled on my back. "What are you thinking?"
"Nothing." The lie tasted bitter. "Just . . . processing."
He studied me with those eyes that saw too much. "This isn't your fault. You know that, right? Alex made his choices."
"I know." I managed a weak smile. "It's just hard. Knowing what's going to happen. Knowing we're helping make it happen."
"We're not pulling the trigger," he said firmly. "We're just . . . providing information. What the Serpents do with it is their business."
Information that could get Alex killed.
"We’ve got three days," I said, changing the subject. "Is that enough time to plan?"
"Has to be." He shifted, all business again. "Duke wants this handled before my patch ceremony. Can't have this hanging over us when I take my full colors."
Of course. Everything had a timeline in this world. Even death came with a schedule.
"I want to see the full plan," I said. "When you have it. I want to understand everything."
