Page 36 of Ruin Me
I flash him a rare smile in return, but then the pain and fear of losing the only person who can make me feel anything other than darkness flares up, and I grimace again. “Routes?” I press, needing to visualise this play-by-play.
“Depends where she is, but if she’s in the city, which is my guess, that’s easy.” Harrison seems confident in this assessment and starts murmuring to someone on his phone.
“Let’s hope you’re right,” I mutter, knowing full well that even the best plans can bleed out in the backstreets.
He gives me the finger but with a wicked smile that I can only roll my eyes at.
Callum’s jaw sets hard as he stares at us, his eyes flicking from face to face. Each of us is a live wire, ready to spark. “We’ve got the upper hand inside Crestmont. Our people are everywhere—staff, students, security. We use that. We turn their own game against them. One of the Vipers is slithering in our ranks, and we need to smoke them out. This isn’t random. This is infiltration, and that fucks me off on a level you can’t even understand right now.”
“How do we smoke them out?” Thayer asks, leaning against the kitchen counter.
“Inside jobs. Diversions. Misinformation,” he shoots back. “We’ve got contacts who owe us favours, ones who can flip loyalties for the right price. We spread false leads, make the Vipers chase shadows while we go in quiet.”
“Quiet’s good,” Harrison nods slowly, the ideataking root. “But timing is everything. One slip and Vogue’s in deeper shit than before.”
“Then we don’t slip.”
My gaze locks with Cal’s, the determination in my veins burning like fire.
“We get her out, and we remind the Vipers why no one messes with The Crowned Syndicate. This is a double-edged sword. Two strikes. Not at the same time. We play the longer game. Vogue first, spies afterwards.”
“What makes you think they’ll stick around?” I ask him.
“They want Crestmont, and this spy or spies are UC. They won’t get pulled out, not yet, even if this rescue goes sideways. They’re committed. They’ll stick it out.”
I nod and look at Thayer.
“Let’s map it out then,” Thayer says, reaching for his phone again, his brain ticking over the details. “If we’re doing this, we do it smart. No traces, no loose ends.”
“Agreed,” Callum states, the leader in full control. “We play this close, hit them where it hurts, and bring Vogue back where she belongs.”
“Alright.” I’m getting frantic, edgy, dangerous, but I keep my face cool and composed. I’ve got a job to do now. “I’ll start by gathering gear and resources.”
“Good.” Callum nods, his focus shifting as he starts formulating plans within plans. “Thayer, you’re on logistics. Harrison, intel on the Vipers’ location and security. We need to know what we’re walkinginto, and remember, discretion is key. Not a word of the bigger plan goes beyond these walls. We don’t want to spook them into doing something stupid.”
“Understood,” Thayer responds crisply, looking like his mind is already racing through contacts and safe houses.
Harrison cracks his knuckles, a grim smile playing on his lips. “I’ll get us what we need. They won’t see us coming.”
“Time to bring her home,” I whisper. The Black Vipers will regret ever crossing us, and I can’t wait to make them pay as painfully as fucking possible.
21
VOGUE
My head pulseswith every beat of my heart. I pry my eyes open, but everything’s a blur. I blink fast and hard, trying to clear the fog that’s settled over my vision. A single bulb hangs from the ceiling, casting a weak light that does little to chase away the shadows lurking in the corners of the room.
The air smells stale, like dampness and old dust. I lift my head slightly, my neck stiff as if I’ve been out for hours. The effort sends a spike of pain through my skull, and I groan, easing back down onto what feels like a thin mattress. A clinking sound stops me short. My wrists are chained. Cold metal encircles them, anchored to the metal headboard of this narrow, disgusting bed. Panic flutters in my chest. I tug at the chains, the metal links rattling against the metal with an ominous sound. They don’t give. Not even a little.
Fuck.
Fear is a thick blanket smothering my thoughts. I’m chained to a bed in some basement, alone. Thereare no windows or doors that I can see, just bare walls and darkness. It’s like something out of a nightmare, except I’m awake, and this is real.
I give the chains a more desperate tug this time. The bite of the cold metal against my skin is all the answer I get. My heart races, my breaths come too quick, and I force myself to stop, to take slower, deeper breaths. Going hysterical won’t help me.
I’m terrified right now and angry. Angry at the father I never met, whose world has finally caught up to me.
This isn’t Westfield; this is the big leagues. I need to be smart about this and find a way out. But first, I have to figure out why I’m here and who’s done this to me.
