Page 98 of Wings
"Burn them," Duke ordered without hesitation.
Tank already had the accelerant out—industrial stuff that would leave nothing but ash. He doused the books, the remaining loose bills we couldn't carry, anything that might help the Serpents rebuild their operation. The whoosh of ignition painted the warehouse orange through dissipating purple smoke.
"Exfil in thirty seconds," Duke commanded. "Thor, confirm the packages are secure."
The packages—our duffels of cash, each worth enough to fund the Heavy Kings for months. Thor did a quick count, nodded confirmation. We had what we'd come for, minus one Serpent president who'd proven smarter than expected.
"Move out!"
We flowed toward the exits like water finding its level. Professional retreat, each man covering the next, nobody left behind. The Serpents moaned and cursed from their positions on the floor, but none tried to pursue. Hard to chase when you're zip-tied and concussed.
The night air hit cold and clean after the chemical fog inside. Our vehicles waited exactly where we'd left them, engines already running. I threw my duffel into Tyson's van, climbed in after it. Tank piled in beside me, still grinning behind his mask.
"Clean as a whistle," he said, but I couldn't share his enthusiasm.
Venom had escaped. The most dangerous Serpent, the one with the reach and rage to retaliate. He'd seen his operation robbed, his men humiliated, his money stolen. That kind of insult demanded blood payment in our world.
"Good work," Duke said from the passenger seat. "Professional, efficient, minimum casualties. Couldn't have asked for better execution."
But his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, and I saw my own concern reflected there. Venom's escape changed things. Made this less a clean victory and more the opening move in something larger.
None of that mattered now, though.
Tonight, I was going back to my Little Girl.
I just hoped Alex would keep his word.
Chapter 19
Kiara
Fourmonthslater.
So much had changed.
The specific smell of the pediatric clinic had stopped confusing my nose months ago—now it just meant Tuesday afternoon was almost over. I clicked through the last patient chart on the ancient computer, documenting a four-year-old's strep throat while cartoon butterflies danced on the wall behind me. My butterflies, painted during a weekend when I'd needed to prove to myself that I could still create something beautiful.
"Kiara, you finishing up?" Dr. Nina Sharma leaned against the nurses' station, her white coat splattered with what looked like grape juice. Occupational hazard when your patients came armed with juice boxes and no concept of personal space.
"Last one." I saved the file, watching the loading bar crawl across the screen. The Ironridge Pediatric Urgent Care Unit wasn't fancy—wedged between a laundromat and a pharmacythat had been "temporarily closed" for two years—but it was ours.
Mine.
The clinic wrapped around me like a bright, chaotic hug. Primary colors dominated every surface, murals covering what used to be institutional beige. A jungle scene sprawled across the waiting room, complete with hidden animals that kept kids occupied during wait times. The exam rooms each had themes—underwater, outer space, enchanted forest. My butterflies lived in the hallway, a riot of wings and color that connected all the spaces.
"So, Friday's team meeting." Nina pulled up a chair, her movements efficient even when relaxing. "We need to finalize the routes for the mobile unit."
My pulse kicked up, but the good kind of adrenaline. Not the emergency room panic, not the fear of Alex showing up. Just excitement for something I was building. "I've mapped out three initial neighborhoods. East side first—highest concentration of uninsured families, limited transportation options."
"The warehouse district?" She frowned. "That's rough territory."
"That's exactly why we need to be there." I pulled up the spreadsheet I'd been perfecting for weeks. "Basic wound care, tetanus shots, diabetes screening. Things that keep people out of the ER if we catch them early."
Nina studied the data, her expression shifting from skeptical to impressed. "You've thought this through."
"I had help." Heat crept up my neck, thinking of Gabe bent over maps with me, marking territories the Heavy Kings controlled. Safe zones. Neutral ground. The places where colors mattered less than community.
"Your mysterious biker boyfriend?" Nina's smile turned teasing. "When do I get to meet this paragon?"
