Page 69 of Carrick
Seven pairs of eyes turned to me. Maddy’s expression was sharp but cautious, watching like she was trying to read thetemperature of a volatile room. Sully had frozen mid-chew, his mouth still half-open, fork suspended in midair. Jax blinked, shoulders straightening, and opened his mouth slightly like he was gearing up to explain something—as if I hadn’t been here, listening, understanding everything they’d said.
I didn’t give him the chance.
Because I already knew what he was going to say.
That I should trust the process. That I should breathe. That this was the job.
But none of them had to sit at this table and pretend to be okay while their family was missing.
“Seriously,” I said, louder this time, my voice cutting through the air with more force than I meant, “are you all just that jaded? You’ve seen so much that this doesn’t even raise your heart rate anymore? You can just ignore the fact that someone is being held captive and slowly disassembled by the Mafia?”
Niko set his glass down carefully, his fingers resting along the stem, slow and deliberate, like he was forcing himself to stay calm. “We’re not ignoring it, Bellamy.”
I stared at him, anger clawing beneath my ribs. “Could’ve fooled me.”
Across the table, Carrick didn’t move. He sat completely still, his attention locked on me. He wasn’t trying to de-escalate or jump in. He was just… present. Watching the pressure in the room rise, waiting to see if it would blow.
“Rayden is missing,” I continued, rising to my feet now, pressing both palms to the edge of the table. My voice trembled at the edges, but I didn’t try to hide it. “He’s either dead or a prisoner. And you’re just—what? Eating garlic bread and talking about wiring like this is all under control?”
“Bellamy.” Niko’s voice didn’t rise, didn’t shift. It stayed measured. Too calm. “We’re working the intel. We can’t move until we have something solid.”
I leaned forward, eyes locked on his. “You mean you can’t move until Quinn says you can.”
“No.” He didn’t flinch, didn’t raise his voice. “We won’t move until it’ssafe. For him. For you.”
I felt my jaw tighten until it ached, the pressure spiking behind my eyes. “Screw safe,” I snapped. “He could be dead.”
The shift in the room was subtle, but complete. The kind of tension that vibrated just beneath the surface—every breath taken carefully, every body still.
And I didn’t care. Because I was done tiptoeing around their comfort. Done pretending I was the only one with a pulse.
Niko remained seated, posture rigid but composed, his tone carefully low. “I know it feels like we’re sitting on our hands?—”
“Because you are,” I said, voice shaking now as heat spread up the back of my neck. “You’re waiting. You’re talking. You’re following protocols while my brother—my only family—is out there somewhere, suffering god-knows-what at the hands of the Dom Krovi. You’re acting like this is just another line on a report.”
“Bellamy.” Sully’s voice came gently, the kind of softness meant to soothe animals or children. He set his fork down with exaggerated care. “I know this feels personal.”
My eyes snapped to him. “That’s because itispersonal.”
His brows drew together, his big frame leaning back slightly, like he was trying to give me more space. “I just mean… we’ve all been there. Someone we love in danger. This team was built to protect people who matter. No one here wants Rayden to get hurt.”
“Thendosomething,” I bit out, heart thundering in my ears.
“We are?—”
“You’re not moving fast enough.”
“Faster doesn’t mean safer,” Jax replied, quiet now, like he was trying not to light the fuse he could already see sparking. “Rushing gets people killed.”
I turned on him, the retort already burning through my chest. “And waiting gets them buried.”
It hit harder than I meant it to. Or maybe exactly as hard as I needed it to. The table fell silent.
Jax stared down at his plate like it held answers he couldn’t reach, jaw tight, spine curved like the weight of my words had settled square between his shoulder blades. Sully exhaled through his nose, arms folding across his chest, thumb tapping slow against his bicep—channeling tension somewhere safer than his mouth. Maddy didn’t blink. Her expression was neutral, almost serene, but her eyes tracked every movement like a sniper—watching, waiting, braced for the explosion that didn’t come.
Until Niko spoke.
He lifted his glass slowly, too precise to be casual. “We’ve done this before, Bellamy,” he said, voice calm in the way that only ever pissed me off more. “We know how it works.”
