Page 108 of Carrick
“I want a full report in the morning,” he said. “Timeline, decision tree, route, off-grid protocols. Every detail.”
“You’ll have it,” I said.
He nodded once, then turned and walked out. No threats. No curses. Just silence—and the soft click of the door behind him, somehow louder than all of Niko’s shouting. That was the worst part. Not the fight. Not the fury. But the sound of it ending without resolution, like a wound stitched shut too soon.
Jax followed a few moments later, muttering as he stomped up the stairs, each heavy footfall echoing like distant war drums. Deacon lingered at the edge of the room, gaze sharp and calculating, absorbing the emotional wreckage like a field medic gauging casualties. Then he turned and left without a word.
And just like that, the house felt hollow. Cavernous. The kind of silence that amplifies everything left unsaid.
At the sink, Sully rinsed his mug. His back was to me, but the slope of his shoulders spoke volumes—he wasn’t angry, just tired. Worn down from playing the middle, from watching people he respected bleed out in opposite corners of the same war. Everyone wanted the same thing—safety, survival, answers—but we were splintering in the search.
Bellamy hadn’t moved. She stood where she’d planted herself, spine straight, hands limp at her sides. The trembling had stopped, but so had the fire. What remained was something heavier. I saw it in her posture, in the way her shoulders bore the weight of words unspoken.
Maddy stepped in with gentle efficiency. “Come on. Let’s get you into something comfortable. Tea, whiskey… maybe both.”
Bellamy blinked, slow and unfocused, like the words took a moment to reach her. Then she nodded. Her gaze met mine before she turned—a look that lingered just long enough to say everything she didn’t. Not gratitude. Not regret. Something quieter. Deeper. Trust.
And it scared the hell out of me. Because I knew exactly what it had cost her to give it.
She followed Maddy down the hall, leaving me alone with Sully, who finally turned around. He dried his mug with a dishtowel, eyes steady on mine—not angry, not judging. Just… studying me. Like I was a puzzle he used to think he could solve and now wasn’t so sure.
“You always were the reckless one,” he said mildly.
“I’m not sorry.”
“I didn’t say you should be.” He stepped closer, propped himself on the edge of the island, and studied me. “Want to know the difference between you and Niko?”
I raised a brow.
“He leads with rules. You lead with people.”
I let that settle. “That’s not always a good thing.”
“No,” Sully said, “but it’s the thing that makes you dangerous. And sometimes, it’s the thing that makes you right.”
I exhaled slowly.
“You really think it was worth it?” he asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
Sully gave a slow nod. “Then hold that line. Because it’s about to get worse before it gets better.”
He pushed off the counter and headed for the stairs, casual as ever. But the tightness in his shoulders and the way his hand lingered on the railing said more than he did. I let him go.
The silence he left behind expanded, settling heavily across the kitchen. I stayed in it, letting it press into my chest. The adrenaline was long gone. All that remained was the ache—consequence, cost, and the quiet knowledge that the fallout hadn’t even started.
Then came footsteps behind me. Soft. Hesitant.
I turned.
Bellamy stood in the hallway, a blanket around her shoulders, steam curling from the mug in her hands. She didn’t speak. Neither did I. We just watched each other through the hush, no shouting or posturing between us. Just a stillness that said everything had changed, and we both knew it.
“I didn’t think he’d take the money,” she said quietly.
“Neither did I.”
“You didn’t tell them everything.”
