Page 115 of The Viper
Sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder. Footsteps pounded down the hallway—security, cops, medics, the whole cavalry finally catching up. But I didn't move. I just held her, my mind racing.
Hank's words echoed in my head.Someone bigger than you. Bigger than the Danes.
The ghost that had been haunting Dominion Hall. The one pulling strings, testing boundaries, leaving cryptic notes and escalating threats. Hank had thought he was untouchable because of them. And now Hank was dead—taken out by Noah's rifle before he could hurt the woman I loved.
I looked down at Lexi, her face pale but resolute, and felt something harden in my chest. This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.
But one thing was clear: I wasn't letting her out of my sight again.
"Come on," I said, guiding her toward the door. "Let's get you out of here."
She nodded, leaning into me as we stepped over Hank's body and into the hallway. The chaos hit us like a wave—cops shouting orders, medics rushing past, Franklin yelling into his phone. But I tuned it all out, my focus narrowing to Lexi and the sneaking suspicion that whoever Hank had been talking about was the same ghost that had been haunting Dominion Hall.
And they weren't done with us yet.
39
The man with the binoculars grunted. It didn't matter that the movie star was still alive. She was of no consequence. What mattered was that the witness was dead—saved him the trouble of doing it himself.
Hank Singleton had been so full of ego and desperate need to be someone that waving a few million dollars in the dead sap's face was like teasing a puppy with a spoonful of peanut butter.
The man from The Vanguard dialed a number. Someone on the other end picked up before he heard a ring.
"Fallout?" the other man asked.
"None," he said, packing up his binoculars.
"Witnesses?"
"None." He took his time heading to the fire escape, no longer needing a view of the movie set four blocks away. "Did you get the audio?" He was referring to the recorder app running on the burner phone he'd given Hank Singleton.
"Downloading now. Anything of importance?"
"Not really."
And that's how The Vanguard looked at most things. Very few things were of importance. But they recorded everything, just in case.
He descended the fire escape steps casually. "Do you think this will do it?"
"It might."
The man nodded to himself.
If Byron Dane was watching, he'd have to slip out of the shadows soon. Because the pressure The Vanguard was willing to apply had no limits. Money didn't matter. Life didn't matter. Only power mattered. And for now, the man walking out of the four-story building and onto the sidewalk—along with his colleagues—was willing to press, wait, and watch. It was only a matter of time.
40
LEXI
Charleston glowed gold and glassy outside the SUV window, all sharp sunlight and long shadows stretching across the city. The world looked too normal for what had just happened. Street vendors still waved. Cars still honked. People still laughed.
I sat in the passenger seat, my shoulder throbbing under the bandage Lucas had wrapped himself. Every time the SUV hit a bump, I caught him flinch—like the pain was his instead of mine. He drove fast but controlled, one hand steady on the wheel, the other clenched against his thigh.
We didn’t talk at first. The silence was thick, full of all the things we didn’t need to say out loud.
Finally, he exhaled. “Ryker’s calling Atlas now. They’ll have you cleared at MUSC by the time we get there. Officer Norton’s making sure no one leaks your name. Private entrance, all of that.”
I turned toward him. “Thank you.”
