Page 158 of Carrick
The air felt… still. Not calm, not peaceful, just the kind of stillness that settles before a storm.
Carrick had been beside me earlier. Quiet. Grounded. His hand resting just above my knee, thumb drawing slow, calming circles over denim. He hadn’t said much. He hadn’t needed to. That small, steady pressure had been enough to keep me from floating too far out of myself. After our scene last night, I needed that more than I cared to admit.
But then Quinn had arrived, and Carrick had disappeared into Niko’s office with him, the two of them shutting the door behind them like the gravity of what they were planning couldn’t afford distractions.
I didn’t ask to be included. I already knew what they were discussing. The call. The protocol. The safest way to reachRayden without tipping off the Dom Krovi or putting us—or him—in more danger.
And now… we waited.
The burner phone sat in the center of the table like something both sacred and poisonous. Matte black plastic. Nothing remarkable. But it felt like it pulsed in the silence, waiting to split everything wide open.
My chest ached.
Sully sat across from me, his leg bouncing so rhythmically I was surprised the table hadn’t started vibrating with it. Maddy hovered near the doorway, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her face pale but composed. Deacon leaned in the corner of the room, his gaze steady, unreadable. He hadn’t said a single word since Quinn arrived.
Even Jax was quiet. Which was how I knew this was bad. Jax was never silent unless he was bracing for impact. I was trying to do the same, but it felt like my skin had grown too tight for my body.
Then Carrick walked back in, with Niko right behind him.
He didn’t say anything, didn’t smile. Just met my eyes with a look that made it hard to breathe. Steady. Serious. Something underneath it—something soft that he didn’t show anyone else—was only for me. He didn’t ask if I was ready. He didn’t have to. I gave him a single nod.
Because I had to be.
Quinn entered a beat behind him, laptop under one arm. He didn’t waste time—just took a seat beside me and rested both forearms on the table like we were about to play a game he didn’t want to lose.
“It’s still basically just a shot in the dark,” he said quietly, eyes flicking from me to Carrick. “But it’s all we’ve got.”
I swallowed hard and forced the words past the lump rising in my throat. “Then take it.”
Quinn nodded once, took the phone out of airplane mode, and dialed. The burner beeped softly as the call connected; the speakerphone amplified each ring—sharp, tinny, far too loud in the silence that held the room hostage. One ring. Two. Three. Each one curled tighter inside my chest, like a fist closing around my ribs. Four. Five. Still nothing.
My stomach twisted. He might not answer. He might’ve thrown the phone away. He might be?—
Click.
The line opened with a soft hiss. Then a voice. “...Yeah?”
Just one word. Raspy. Hoarse.
My breath caught. It was him.
Rayden’s voice rolled out like smoke—low, worn, and laced with something that sounded like he hadn’t slept in days. It wasn’t panic. It wasn’t surprise. It was resignation. Detached and frayed at the edges, like he already knew who was on the other end of the line and didn’t want to deal with it.
The ache in my chest spread, slow and sickening. Quinn didn’t look at me. Didn’t speak. He just leaned in slightly, elbows still on the table, waiting for the next move. We had agreed that Carrick would speak first. But I couldn’t let that happen. Not yet.
Carrick’s eyes met mine as I lifted a hand in silent request. He understood. No one breathed. And all I could do was stare at the phone, heart thundering so hard I thought it might split my chest open. Rayden had answered. Now we had to find out if there was anything left to save.
There was a pause—long enough to hurt.
“Ray?” I said softly, my voice barely more than a thread. He didn’t respond right away. I could picture him rubbing a hand over his face like he always did when he was trying to decide how honest to be. I’d heard that sound a hundred times growing up.
Finally, he spoke. “You shouldn’t have called.” His voice was low. Rough. A warning curled in guilt.
I didn’t flinch. “We had to. You disappeared, and didn’t reach out to us like we agreed you would.”
“I’m alive,” Rayden muttered. “That’s all that matters, right?”
Carrick leaned forward slightly. “Ray, this is Carrick, the guy who gave you the burner phone. I’m here too. Trust me, we’re very happy to hear that you are alive. But we also need to understand what happened after you left the apartment that night.”
